Found
by korinara
Summary: Deidara & Sakura. He was peculiar and a little too observant for her tastes, but he was also alone, just like her, at the fault of this supercilious war. So she would dance with him, just until they could both forget how much they had lost.
1. A is for Amuck

Found

**Found**

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Naruto

**A is for Amuck**

**A/N: **DeiSaku fic inspired by fellow fanfic author, Ivy Adrena, who also betas this monster along with Aelibia. Go check out both of their works; they're seriously awesome.

O O O

Sakura _should _have been discontented by his presence, really, but it was just so hard to do so when one had been wandering alone in the far eastern wastelands for days on end.

He was, nonetheless, a reassuring lump in the distance, sitting upon a squat of dry land within the murky bayou. His back was turned to her, but his black cloak, patterned with those disturbingly familiar red clouds, and bright blond topknot gave him away almost instantly.

He wasn't making any attempt to hide or flee or fight, so she advanced cautiously. Her footsteps were wet and loud, but Deidara didn't turn to acknowledge her existence. He just kept still, hunched over with his chin resting atop his knees.

She observed him for a while, of course, the sounds of the animals around them making everything seem all that much more anxious. But the only movements either made was the rise and fall of their chests.

So when all was said and done, Sakura decided to sit down. She said nothing, just dropped herself beside him, mimicking his pose. Because who knew? Maybe they were the last ones left after the systematic eradication of both friend and foe alike. The lines separating who was the enemy and who was an absolute ally had blurred considerably, to the point where Sound, Leaf, Sand, and the Akatsuki organization were forced to fend for themselves entirely.

Her side pressed against his warmly, and he didn't protest at all. His form was much larger than hers, despite the fact that he was among the smallest Akatsuki members, and though several instinctual presences within Sakura were urging her to get up and run before he killed her or worse, she was simply too tired to listen.

A northeast wind blew, and the scent of the bog filled her with a nostalgic sense of dread. She'd been separated from her cell, consisting of Sai, Naruto, and Yamato. She didn't have much of an idea as to where she was going, only that she was nearing the eastern coast. From there, she could find a neutral village and contact home. But she'd walked for so, so long, and she feared that she'd see the end of all things before she could even find the ocean. All she'd seen thus far was dense forestry and bubbling swamps. And quite frankly, she was sick of it all.

Deidara was a pleasant distraction from it, to be honest—a change in the constancy of the landscape and a break in the solitude. And though he was for certain the enemy and for certain detrimental to her well-being, she would take whatever she could get.

"Thanks," Deidara said suddenly, mumbling it into his knees, and scaring Sakura half out of her wits and almost into a defensive position.

Sakura nodded solemnly, though, when she'd reaffirmed that he posed no threat at the current time. "You're welcome," she said, eyeing him from her peripheral vision.

He sighed, lifting his head only enough to stare out at the bleak landscape before them. "You're not going to fight me, yeah?"

"No," Sakura said, taking his hint and keeping her gaze pointed at nothing. "I have no need to."

"Hmm."

"You're not going to fight _me?" _she asked gently.

"I have no need to."

From where she was sitting, Sakura could see a side-profile view of his face. He looked ragged and worn, and a dark bag hung under his exposed eye. She knew the frown playing over his lips all too well, and a pang of sympathy clenched around her heart. "You've…" she ventured, finally turning to look at him full-on, desperate for conversation, for human interaction. "You've lost someone?"

He turned slowly toward her, his eye scanning over her and evaluating her question, it seemed. Finally, his frown deepened. "Yeah," he huffed.

"Oh." Sakura sank back into the cradle of her arms, but Deidara didn't follow her example. "So have I. My…my friends. Many of them."

"Because of the war between—?"

"Yes," she answered, cutting him off before he could speak any more of the battle raging back in her native land.

Deidara grunted softly and shifted, which Sakura could feel. He didn't make any move to disconnect where his side touched hers, though. It seemed he felt just as comforted by her presence as she did his. "You're a far way from home, yeah."

She closed her eyes, suddenly awfully tired. "I know. So are you."

"But I have a reason to be."

"And I don't?"

"You haven't told me one yet."

"And you haven't told me _yours."_

"You haven't asked, yeah."

Sakura frowned at the taller man. "Was I supposed to?"

"Well," he pondered, smirking despite the circumstances. "It _would _be considered proper manners."

She straightened her back, smiling right back at him. She could play his game, and she'd gladly do so. She recognized it for what it was: He was creating a temporary distraction from his grief by speaking with her, and she silently thanked him for being so creative. "I was picked up by…a tornado," she said, and she watched eyebrow lift in amusement. "A laughing, happy tornado that picked me up in his strong arms and dumped me in this yucky bayou as he passed through."

"Is that so, yeah?" Deidara asked, his tone laced with humor and possibly a certain loss of dignity. "In that case, I was taken here by a magical cloud. And the cloud told me that I'd have to sit here on top of this ridiculous little island until…"

Sakura laughed a little out loud. "Until a princess came to rescue you?"

"Until a princess came to rescue me, yeah," he affirmed, rolling his eye.

She snorted, shaking her head gaily. "Talk about role-reversal."

"I find it quite befitting. And what were the tornado's reasons for depositing you here, yeah?" Deidara asked, turning his whole body to face her.

Sakura did the same, and as they sat cross-legged, their knees touched. She noticed that his cloak was tattered and dirty, but she tried not to think about that. They were creating a story together—they were momentarily forgetting all that was currently wrong with the world, and it was a one-in-a-billion chance that she'd found him at all, so she reveled in it while she could. "I believe…he was testing me."

"Testing?"

"Yes." She pouted slightly, putting a finger to her bottom lip in concentration. "He was seeing if I was suited to rescue the prince from his…island."

"Akatsuki Island," Deidara said with a challenging sort of tone. He grinned, showing some teeth, and Sakura laughed. "I do believe that you are a very suitable princess to save this prince, yeah."

She smirked. "Well, I'm glad. So what are the conditions? What must I do to rescue you?"

That grin because all that much more predatory, and it unnerved her a bit. "Dance with the prince of Akatsuki Island, yeah." He stood quickly, pulling her with him by the hand.

She could feel the mouths on his hands pressing against her palms, and it was an odd feeling, but she didn't think on the sensation much. "This is silly."

"Exactly."

She found herself being swung around, whirling around his body in a daze. And he laughed all the while, occasionally dipping her backwards.

He curled her into him, and she pressed against his body for less than an instant before he released her and she twirled away. "You have two left feet, yeah," he teased, being careful not to step outside the island.

"Yes, well, you're not exactly the King of Dance," she retorted.

"Of course not. I'm the Prince of Akatsuki Island, obviously." He took a misstep and found himself fumbling over his own feet until he fell flat on his rump.

Sakura laughed the hardest she could ever remember laughing. "Some prince _you _are."

He grabbed her by the arm and pulled her down into the mud beside him, hair disheveled and filthy. "And it seems that you look _nothing _like a princess, yeah."

He quickly found himself with a face full of bog water and sputtered. _"Hey!" _He wiped his face with a sleeve of his cloak. "You're not very lady-like, _princess."_

Sakura was about to bark out a quick-witted retort, but a shuffling of leaves caught her attention.

Deidara also immediately snapped to attention, rising to his feet quickly. A serious expression overlaid his previous one of frivolity. "Wh—?"

A kunai planted itself neatly at the base of Deidara's neck. He cringed for a barely a second and then slumped over, falling sideways into the water.

Sakura immediately got to her feet, turning around. What she saw angered her more than it probably should have. A rogue ninja stood in battle position, kunai poised between each finger, sans the one he had thrown at Deidara. He wasn't wearing any detectable headband.

He dropped his battle position and advanced upon her, cold, grey eyes frowning upon the Akatsuki member lying still in the water. His gaze flicked to Sakura. "Are you okay?"

Fury at the loss of another life exploded in Sakura, and she whirled on the ninja. "You _bastard! _What the hell did he do to you?"

The man, apparently confused, shook his head. "It looked like he was attacking you. And isn't he an Akatsuki?" He waited for her answer, but when she didn't give him a viable one, he held out a hand. "You're wearing a Leaf headband. Allow me to escort you back."

She bit her lip and took a step back. Had she been younger, she might have cried. Had she been younger, she might have run. Had she been younger, she might just have done both. But because she was much older, she shook her head determinedly. "No."

The man dropped his hand, staring at her intently. "What?"

"I said, 'No,'" she said, bending down near Deidara to help him out of the water to preserve whatever dignity was left of him. "Now please leave."

"Are you sure?"

She didn't reply, and in seconds he was gone. Did he think she was stupid? This was a _war. _She trusted no one. Not even friends, but that didn't mean she should just let them die.

She turned her attention back to Deidara. He was still breathing, but barely. She put one hand around the the entry wound and gripped the offending kunai with the other. A faint, mint-colored glow showed that she had begun to heal him.

The only sign that he was actually awake and able to function was when he opened his visible eye a touch to watch her. "That was you friend?"

Sakura frowned and shook her head as she managed to pull out the weapon. Blood immediately rushed to fill the open wound, but Sakura's chakra was quickly remedying this. "No. Not a friend. An enemy."

Deidara closed his eye again. "Friends, enemies…who knows who's who anymore, yeah?"

She forced a smile. "Yeah."

As she reached down to fit him into a position that wasn't having him half-lying in the murky bog water, he put two gentle fingers to her neck, touching the curve of her jaw in a reassuring manner.

Something was a little off about the position, and she opened her mouth to speak. Before she could finish, however, his fingers pushed hard into the place where her carotid artery would be.

She only got the chance to glance at him briefly before she hit the ground, a veil of black sweeping over her eyes.

O O O

It was as if the sky had torn open and wept as Deidara flew through the heavens on his clay bird, dashing through the low clouds and keeping his cloak wrapped tightly around himself. The rain drenched his hair into a stringy, straw-like heap atop his head. Raindrops obscured the lens of his scope, and he had to partially close his exposed eye against the roaring wind.

From somewhere behind him, the grey-eyed man, heavily dressed, shouted, "Where are we landing?"

Instead of trying to raise his voice above the wind, Deidara pointed to a not-so-far-off town. Lights twinkled amidst the drab scenery.

Kisame nodded as Deidara steered the bird toward the ground, just on the outskirts of the ramshackle town and atop a small knoll heavily mantled with tall trees. Once his clay vessel alighted, he motioned for Kisame to wait.

"Cover her with some of the extra clothes you have, yeah," he called over his shoulder, "and then bring her in separately. Remember the plan?"

Deidara watched Kisame nod and gruffly pull an extra tunic over her head, where it completely draped about her body like a dress. Satisfied with the new, rather _grungy _apparel she sported, he pulled off his Akatsuki cloak, turned it inside out, and strode toward where the town lay in all of its dilapidated glory.

There was a worn path that led him in a curvy sort of trajectory to the front gates of the municipality, if it could even really be _called _that. From what he could see at his distance, the gates were made of randomly-shaped wood planks tied crudely together with some sort of twine. The tallest buildings of the lot were located to the west of him, and they leaned against each for support, as if some incredible force had knocked the two of them together.

"Hello, stranger!" someone called as he stepped onto the small stone walkway at the gates. "What business have you with this town?"

The tone of his voice didn't seem hostile at all, and he looked like an imbecile if Deidara saw one, but he still put his pinky finger through the loop of a kunai in his pocket cautiously. "I'm just traveling through, yeah," he shouted back, looking up at the man. He was seated in a crow's nest, some ten or fifteen feet above the ground.

"I see," the man said, leaning comfortably against the guardrails. "If it's an inn you're seeking, you'll not find one here."

This had Deidara's veins boiling. There wasn't another town in site for _miles. _"No lodging whatsoever? Even a guesthouse will do, yeah."

"Should you be lucky enough, you might find a family who is willing to extend to you their hospitality." He grinned wide. "We are but a humble fishing village, after all."

"Great, yeah," Deidara mumbled, heading on through the gates.

"Wait a minute!"

The blond man halted immediately, glancing once more up at the supposed gate watch. "What is it?"

"You look…familiar. You haven't visited before, have you?"

"No, yeah," Deidara replied fast--automatically.

The watch frowned. "So…was that a yes or a no?"

Deidara sighed dramatically. "That was a 'no.'"

"I see." He scratched the back of his head warily, and Deidara found that he was quickly becoming annoyed with this town. "I couldn't tell because of your…" The man faltered, searching for the right terminology. Finally, it seemed he had found it. "Your speech impediment."

The mouths on Deidara's hands gnashed their teeth. "It's not a speech impediment, yeah. It's habit."

"Ah. In any case," he said, waving one burly hand, "I hope you enjoy your stay!"

Quickly—possibly quicker than he had _ever _walked to get away from somebody who was pestering him—Deidara wandered into the center of the town. It wasn't bustling by any means, but there were still a significant amount of people strolling about listlessly. There weren't any vendors set up anywhere, just a few conjoining shop-homes.

Two children ran past him, laughing and slapping each other with unidentifiable fish.

He sighed. What a sad, degenerate place to live.

A woman stood outside a particularly large-looking house, trying to fix a nail jutting out of her doorway.

"Excuse me," he said, approaching her.

She turned just her head toward him, stopping with her current task. "Can I help you?"

"Do you offer lodging, yeah?" he asked, making sure to keep his hands tucked tightly into his pockets. They'd throw him out on his ass for sure if they saw his little "mutation."

She smiled. "Yes, I do. Do you require it?"

He nodded, and she led him inside. The first level of her home was small and humble, with the occasional family portrait decorating an end table or wall. Then they were up the stairs, rounding a corner, and coming upon a hallway containing at least three or four rooms.

"Here are the guest quarters," she said, bowing deep. "You can choose any of these rooms. They're all currently vacant."

"My brother and my wife will be coming soon, yeah," Deidara said, approaching the far door and placing a hand carefully on the knob. "Will they be welcome, as well?"

"Of course!" the woman said, smiling bright. Deidara nodded and went to open the door, but she stopped him once more. "Dinner will be tonight at seven o'clock, and breakfast tomorrow will be at eight o'clock. Of course, neither is mandatory."

He nodded, and without another glance, entered the room.

Whereupon he immediately spotted Kisame lounging on the large queen bed, one leg folded casually over the other.

"Kisame," Deidara muttered, nodding his acknowledgment. "You were quick, yeah."

Kisame shrugged. "I just followed you. Wasn't that difficult."

"So where's the girl?"

The shark man pointed at a far corner of the room, where Sakura sat propped up, though her head still slumped forward, in an armchair. "There."

"And she's bound, yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Good." He sat down on the bed beside his partner, yawning. The day, no matter how anticlimactic it was, had been long. Deidara was an artist, not an actor, and he'd been worried that he'd fail miserably in that department.

However, as he lay down with his arms folded behind his head, he couldn't help but feel even the smallest sense of fulfillment. He'd pulled off the impromptu capture of the medic-nin, and he'd managed to migrate farther east than he ever could have imagined. Plus, he'd found Kisame. Well, technically, Kisame had found _him…_

And speak of the devil, Kisame began to laugh deeply.

Deidara frowned at him, glaring through his exposed, half-lidded eye. "What?"

He laughed a little harder. "I was just remembering you and your little _dance _with the girl."

Deidara snorted and rolled onto his side, removing his arms from behind his head to instead tuck them across his chest. "It was a part of the act, yeah. Don't read too much into it."

"Act," Kisame mocked. "You were dancing with her before I even showed up."

"It's not like I just thought up this grand, master plan when _you _appeared, yeah. I knew I was going to either kill her or capture and use her the first time she sat next to me."

"But you were still dancing."

"What's your point?"

He stifled another laugh. "My point is that you were _dancing."_

"Shut up, yeah." There was silence for a moment, and when Deidara felt a bit of his pride return, he broke it. "How'd you escape, anyway?"

He felt rather than saw Kisame shrugged as the whole mattress shifted from the brief movement. "I fought. I ran. And then I fought some more."

A thick, suffocating barrier of hush blanketed the two once more.

"I didn't find anyone," Kisame said simply, as if he'd been reading Deidara's mind.

Deidara sighed through his nose. "Me neither. I thought I was the only one left, yeah."

"Yeah, well," Kisame grunted, finally turning onto his side, facing away from Deidara, "that's not the case, now. We're a team of three: you, me, and the girl."

"That's not exactly a team," Deidara muttered, and he would've rolled his eyes if they had been open. "More of a forced armistice."

"_Fine, _let's just call us all a working dynamic and leave it at that."

"Works for me."

More of that damned dense, silent air followed.

"We head to…where after this?" Kisame asked, turning only slightly so that he could glance at Deidara out of the corner of his grey eyes.

"I don't know. We'll stay to the east coast, yeah," Deidara answered, shifting uncomfortably. "We'll try and contact Leader."

"I'm almost positive Leader's dead."

"Don't jump to conclusions," Deidara scolded. "But…if that's the case, then we'll stay dormant for the remainder of the war. When it's over, and if we still can't find Leader, we'll just have to resurrect the Akatsuki ourselves."

Kisame scoffed heavily at this. "Sounds like a long trip."

"Nothing comes without a price, yeah."

"And the girl?"

"What about her?"

"What will we do with her?"

"We keep her, yeah. What else?"

"Wouldn't her friends be looking for her?"

The sound of a grandfather clock carried down the hall and into the room. Deidara listened to it chime six times, and then spoke. "From what she told me, most of her friends are dead."

Kisame paused for a moment. "Surprise, surprise."

"It leaves one to wonder," Deidara speculated, shuffling one of his feet over the other, "how she managed to survive at all."


	2. B is for Bric a Brac

Found

**Found**

**B is for Bric-a-brac**

O O O

"Fucking conniving _bastard!"_

If nothing else, Deidara pondered, the girl could at least be a suitable alarm clock. After all, there was nothing like a good kick to the head to wake somebody up.

Kisame was already on his feet, grabbing Sakura around the neck. _"Behave," _he growled, and Deidara watched as Sakura squirmed helplessly. She clawed at the hands around her throat, but when he tightened his grip she grimaced and purposefully fell limp. He set her down, but he still kept one hand clenched tightly around her upper arm.

Deidara rubbed his head, pouting a little bit. "Well, isn't _your _company just wonderful, yeah."

"_Piss off," _she hissed and arched away from him, much like a cornered cat. "I _trusted _you—"

"First mistake," Kisame mumbled.

"And I _pitied _you—"

"Second," Deidara continued.

"And you fucking _stole _me away!"

Suddenly, it wasn't too difficult to see quite a bit of Tsunade in the girl's demeanor. Besides the blonde hair and big breasts, she could pass of as a good substitute. Shrugging, Deidara waved a nonchalant hand. "As you can see, it was really your fault, anyway."

With a roar of anger, Sakura flipped upwards, using her captor's arm to land a swift kick to his face. Kisame flew backwards, but was able to stop himself from smashing straight through the bedroom wall. He landed masterfully on one palm, and then hopped to his feet.

Sakura turned to Deidara, who was, in turn, staring at her intently. "You'll _die," _she said, charging toward him, foot outstretched once more.

He caught her easily enough by the ankle, though, and swung her on the bed. She landed on her back hard, and even though her fall was largely cushioned, she grunted. Deidara followed, pinning her down with his knees and hands.

She tried to free herself, writhing and wriggling underneath his grip. But the added forces of A: Deidara's fierce hold and B: the chakra-resistant ropes binding her hands behind her wouldn't allow her escape.

Deidara frowned down at her. "You're so much _trouble, _yeah."

Her face turned an interesting shade of red for a moment before she shut her eyes tight and let out a blood-curdling scream that had even Kisame staggering.

"Shut up!" Deidara warned, trying to find a way to maneuver himself so that he could cover her mouth with a forearm.

She screamed again. "Help me! Someone!"

Kisame was about to rush to Deidara's aid, but the bedroom door flew open.

Three heads turned in its direction.

The lady and supposed owner of the house panted, key in hand, and looked about the room frantically. "I heard screaming! Is someone in danger?"

"_Help me!"_

"Uh…um…" Deidara fumbled, glancing quickly between Sakura and the woman. "We were just…I mean…"

The woman stared for a moment, and then a deep flush came over her features. She clapped a hand over her eyes. "O—oh! I'm so sorry! I—I must have interrupted…"

"Y…yes!" Deidara quickly said, his face lighting up in realization. "Yes, you did! I apologize, but my wife is rather…rambunctious, yeah."

"_Wife?" _Sakura screeched, trying to wrench away from his grasp again. "No!" She moved her head slightly to look at the woman, even though she had her eyes covered. "He's lying! Please help me! H—him and the—the shark man! They kidnapped me!"

Deidara laughed nervously. "I'm _so _sorry, miss. But when she gets into something, she…well, she's a wonderful actress!"

"He's _lying!" _Sakura pleaded, and a fit of tears cracked her voice. "They stole me! I'm from Konoha! Konoha of the Fire Country!"

The woman removed her hand from her eyes, staring at the pair on the bed with a wary expression.

They were going to be found out and his plan was just going to fall all to hell if she didn't close her mouth! And damn it, he had come too _far _for it to just end like this. Deidara panicked, his mind racing…

"Please! You have to believe me! Help me, or call for—"

…and he brought his lips to Sakura's in a chaste mock of a kiss.

The woman made an "Eep!" noise and quickly backed out of the room. "I—I apologize! I'll leave you two—er—_three—_alone!"

As soon as the woman closed to door, Kisame was grabbing Sakura by the head, slamming her into the opposite wall. She looked a little stunned, though whether that was from his previous action or from Kisame's twitch of violence, Deidara couldn't tell. He sat back on his haunches and wiped his lips with the back of his hand, grimacing.

"That was disgusting, yeah," he muttered, climbing off the bed. "Kisame, we're going to have to convince that woman that we're _not _kidnappers."

Kisame looked at his partner over his shoulder, frowning. "And how do we do that? She's being an uncooperative little—"

"Let me go!" Sakura suddenly cried, sobbing. "What do you _want _from me? There's nothing I can give you!"

"You—" Deidara began, but Sakura cut him off.

"I don't even know if Naruto's alive or not! And if he is, what do you need the kyuubi for anymore? You're the only Akatsuki left!"

Kisame's fist connected with the side of her head, and she gasped, her body tensing instinctively.

"Kisame," Deidara barked, glaring daggers at both the girl and his partner. "You'll kill her if you keep that up, and she's no good to us dead, yeah."

"I'm no use to you at _all!"_

"And _you!" _Deidara accused, stepping close to Sakura, where she still was pinned against the wall, and pointing a demeaning finger in her face. "Stop talking! You're giving me a headache!"

Kisame rubbed his temples with his free hand. "So what are we going to do?"

"_We," _Deidara drawled, moving to sit down on the bed in frustration, "are going to just pretend to be one happy little family. I'm the loving-but-slightly-strict husband, you're the deadbeat brother-in-law, and the girl's the pitying wife. Got it? Both of you?"

Kisame nodded at the same time that Sakura shook her head.

"Listen, yeah," Deidara said, indicating that he was speaking directly to Sakura by glaring at her with his scope, beneath the fringe of his bangs. "I'm not above using you for reasons _other _than medicinal purposes, if you know what I mean."

"And neither am I," Kisame snickered. Sakura paled.

"And trust me on this one, little girl, I can make your life a living hell, or I can…well, I can make it slightly _less _than a living hell. Take your pick, yeah."

"Don't you _dare _touch me," she breathed, her eyes narrowing as hatred clouded her tone. "Don't you _ever _touch me! Either of you!"

"We won't," Deidara said, standing up and picking some lint off of his cloak. Not that it mattered, anyway. It was tattered beyond repair. "But you need to collaborate with us. Do whatever we say."

"That's not collaborating," Sakura spat, wincing under Kisame's hand. "Collaborating is working together—being a _team. _What you're asking me to do is—"

"Admittedly not that difficult," Deidara finished for her, even though he knew it was the exact opposite of what she had been about to say. "We're helping each other, yeah. Kisame and I will protect you, and you will heal us whenever necessary, which will probably be often, in return." He glanced down at himself, then at Kisame. "In fact, I'd say we need to be spiffed up right now."

"_Never. _I _hate _you."

Deidara slapped a palm to his face. "This isn't about whether or not you like us. This is about _survival."_

"Then I'd rather die than help!"

"There are worse things than death," Kisame said, grinning wide, and this had Sakura shutting her mouth tight.

"For now," Deidara bartered, "just go along with it. This woman is going to send some sort of troop after us if we don't get down there and eat breakfast with her family. If she sends a troop, we're going to have to slaughter them all, yeah. And eventually, somebody's going to find out that a whole village is drowning in blood. That could create huge problems for all of us, even you."

Sakura opened her mouth, but Kisame didn't allow her to speak.

"It doesn't matter whether or not you did it. You were still with us when _we _did, and you're still an accessory to a crime. You'd be punished all the same." A thought seemed to come to him, and his lips twitched up in a half-smile. "Then you'd be forced to run instead of being captured and thrown in prison, and you'd become a missing-nin along with us. Then you'd aid us in resurrecting the Akatsuki, and eventually, you and Deidara would have several pink-haired, blue-eyed babies with incredible chakra control and itty-bitty mouths on their itty-bitty hands." He laughed. "Quite the Dream Team, hmm?"

Deidara sighed. "Kisame, you're an idiot, yeah."

Kisame smirked charmingly. "I can't help that I'm creative."

"Alright," Sakura said after a moment, hanging her head in defeat. I'll…I'll do this for you. Just don't hurt anybody here. They're all innocent."

Kisame and Deidara leered ominously. "Perfect."

O O O

Sakura's smile really was brilliant.

Deidara frowned.

But it was still an obvious fake.

As the continued on down the hallway, he grabbed her around the shoulders and pushed her against his side. She tensed. "You look so nervous, yeah," he ground out, sliding his hand down to her forearm, where he squeezed it tightly. "Try not to look so flustered."

Immediately, her face fell lax then brightened again. This time, she was sort of half-smiling, a dazed expression crawling across her features, but at lease it didn't look forced.

He released her, grinning. "Much better. Now, remember what you're supposed to do?"

She nodded.

He ruffled her hair. "Good girl, yeah."

Kisame snorted. "Okay, _Zetsu."_

"What?"

The shark man whistled gaily, hands in his pockets. "Nothing."

"Good morning!" the woman cried as the three of them entered the dining room. She ushered them each to their appointed seats at one end of the table as her and her two children sat at the other end. "I hope you're in the mood for kayu!"

The smile on Deidara's face faded. They were having…rice gruel.

She dished out six bowls plus their appointed spoons, never stopping humming and grinning. Afterward, she sat down to her own breakfast.

Kisame cast Deidara a sidelong glance. Apparently, he was having the same thoughts. The Akatsuki didn't eat like princes by any means, but they certainly ate better than _kayu. _The last time he'd had this dish was when he'd contracted pneumonia a few years back. And even then, the organization had been considerably low on funds.

He looked at Sakura who was, surprisingly, eating like she hadn't eaten in days. And maybe, he speculated, she hadn't.

Grudgingly and with an inward sigh, Deidara spooned a bit of the gruel into his mouth. So _bland…_

"Excuse me, miss?" Sakura said meekly, looking at the woman.

The woman smiled. "Aramaki Nanami."

Sakura smiled back, but it seemed more of a weak twitch of her lips. "Mrs. Aramaki, my name is—"

"Oonishi Keiko," Deidara quickly cut in. "Her name is Keiko, and I am Oonishi Makoto." He pointed to Kisame, who was busily picking gruel out of his fingernails. "And this is my brother-in-law, Yoshida Kenji."

"I see," the woman said, and she visibly swallowed. "Was…there something you needed, Keiko?"

A grim look passed over Sakura's face, and Deidara watched as she clenched her fists in the material of her tunic. "Yes. Could I possibly use your restroom?"

Nanami nodded. "Yes. It's the first door on the left, just down the hall behind me. I can—"

"I'll come with you, _sister," _Kisame said, standing up as Sakura looked at him with a horrified expression. "I need to use the restroom, as well, and I'll just wait behind you."

As soon as the two of them were well out of eyesight and the range of hearing, Nanami turned to Deidara. "How long have you and your wife been married, Makoto?"

He almost choked on a spoonful of gruel. How many damn stories was he going to have to make up in one day? "N…not long. A few months."

"Ah." The woman smiled nostalgically and put a gentle hand to her pink cheek, closing her eyes delicately. "I remember when Yuudai and I were newlyweds… Such wonderful times. You should cherish them greatly, young man, as they'll be the best years of your life."

"Cherish them," Deidara mumbled, resting his chin in his palm and swirling the spoon in the kayu. "I'll remember that, yeah."

One of the children laughed—the little girl—and it caught Deidara's attention. "You have a funny accent," she giggled, hiding half behind her soup bowl.

Deidara frowned. "It's not an accent. It's a habit, yeah."

"I want to be like Mr. Oonishi!" the boy shouted, holding his spoon in the air like a triumphant torch. "Watch me, watch me!" All eyes turned to him, and he took a deep breath. "I like to play with my friends, _yeah."_

The girl laughed. "I want to be like Mr. Oonishi, too…_yeah!"_

Frustration festered and brewed in Deidara's stomach, and he quickly finished up his gruel. Damn kids and their damn, innocent games. Honestly, things would be _so _much easier if he could just make his trademark scary-half-covered-leer face, smile with all three of his mouths, and laugh as they ran off. But _no, _of _course _not. He was stuck having to bend and twist to the expectations of the wife of some poor fisherman in some poor fishing village.

He sighed and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Of course, if he _did _reveal his "special additives," they'd surely recognize him as an Akatsuki. After all, how many people had mouths on their hands? Surely this was as noticeable as any scar they could identify him with. Kisame…not so much. He may have been blue, and may have had gills, but he wasn't as…_recognizable _as Deidara, himself, was. Deidara was flamboyant with his killings. Kisame preferred to—

"What's that on your hand, yeah?" one of the children, the little girl, inquired, tilting her head to try and get a better view of it.

The color fell from Deidara's face and he quickly planted his hands in his lap. "It's…uh…a tattoo."

"I want to see it, yeah!" the boy cried, bouncing up and down in his chair.

"Um, no, I don't think that's a good idea," Deidara replied, gritting his teeth and staring down the hallway that Kisame and the girl had disappeared down. How long did it _take?_

"Why not, yeah?" the children asked in unison, and Mrs. Aramaki placed a hand on each of their shoulders.

"Children," she said soothingly, "if Mr. Oonishi doesn't wish to show you, then he doesn't have to."

Deidara could definitely detect a certain tone in her voice that he absolutely detested. She was testing him. If he didn't show her his hands, she'd be suspicious. And if he did, he'd be in a heap of trouble. "It's…quite inappropriate for the children, yeah," he mumbled, trying to make himself blush. But damn if it wasn't difficult. He wasn't really one for modesty at all.

Silence coated the dining room for a moment, and then he heard the chair squeak as Mrs. Aramaki leaned back. She made a half-contented sound in her throat and continued eating.

Finally, Sakura and Kisame came back. As soon as Sakura sat down, Nanami assaulted her with a barrage of questions.

"So, Keiko, Makoto's told me you're newlyweds. Where were you married?"

Sakura visibly swallowed. "We…" Deidara caught her eyes with his as she went on, sounding somewhat choked. "In…in a fishing village in…the Fire Country."

"Oh?" she asked, seemingly infinitesimally interested as she set down her spoon in her empty bowl. "Were either of you fishers? Or from a family of fishermen?"

"Yes."

"No."

Deidara glared at Sakura. Well, _that _didn't sound shady. He huffed good-naturedly and waved a hand nonchalantly—an instinctive act. "Well, yes and no, actually—"

The little girl gasped. "You have _mouths _on your hands!"

"_Cool!" _the boy cried, gripping the edge of the table in a vice-like grip. "Let me see, let me see!"

"Th—they're not mouths, yeah," Deidara said, putting his hands in his lap once more. "They're tattoos."

"And how, exactly," Mrs. Aramaki said, furrowing her brow ominously, "are tattoos of mouths on your hands considered inappropriate for children?"

Deidara glanced at Kisame for support, but Kisame was too busy trying his damndest not to laugh. He was failing miserably.

"You see," Sakura said suddenly, leaning close to Mrs. Aramaki as she stuffed another spoonful of kayu down her throat. "I have a certain fetish. A _hand _fetish, actually, and D—_Makoto _tattooed mouths on his hands as a sort of engagement gift to me. It's very…alluring."

The fisherwoman nodded, blushing gently. "I see. That's so darling! He must really care for you."

Kisame finally broke, and he laughed uproariously, clutching his stomach.

"Well!" Deidara announced, standing up hastily. "We should really get going, yeah. We have a long way to travel still! How much do I owe you?"

"My wonderful family!" a large man bellowed, bursting through the front door and startling the three shinobi to their feet. He carried a long string with several fish dangling from it, and he swung it about merrily. "I have returned!"

Mrs. Aramaki jumped up, hands clenched to her chest spectacularly. _"Yuudai!" _she swooned, floating to his side. "You've come home at last!"

The presumed "Yuudai" dropped his string of fish and picked up Mrs. Aramaki in his arms, carrying her bridal style. "You look as beautiful as ever, Nanami."

"Poppa!" the children cried, crawling out of their chairs to hug the man holding their mother.

Deidara flicked his gaze to Kisame, who was holding an arm protectively in front of Sakura. He relaxed, but raised an amused eyebrow at the shark man.

Kisame frowned. "What?"

"What's with the 'step-back-my-damsel' arm, yeah?" Deidara snorted, crossing his arms over his chest.

Kisame's frown deepened. "It's just reflex. Relax; I'm not going to steal your sweetheart away."

"She wishes."

And that was when Sakura made her grand escape, darting clear over the dining room table, through the flock of fisher-family, and out the open front door.

Kisame immediately fled after her, and Deidara cursed loudly.

Yuudai huddled his family to his side. "What's this?" he asked in his rumbling voice.

"She's just got a case of the newlywed jitters," Deidara said happily, and he threw 1,000 yen on the table, already scaling a toppled chair as he shouted, "that should be enough!" over his shoulder.


	3. C is for Crow

Found

**Found**

**C is for Crow**

O O O

Sakura was very well aware that a large, blue-skinned man was tailing her dangerously. But she didn't particularly care, because all that mattered was that she had to run. She had to get away from her captors; she knew what they were capable of. She'd remembered Sasori's defeat vividly enough to keep this fact in mind.

She hopped deftly over rocks and tried to stay out of the bayou water and slick mud as much as possible, but it was nearly impossible. The land was too barren where she was running to keep aboveground.

Kisame appeared in front of her suddenly, and she flipped back, landing expertly on a jutting rock. From there she took off in another direction, running instead to the north. And Kisame kept following her, occasionally cursing when she zigzagged out of his path.

She half-turned long enough only to toss a few kunai at him, which he easily dodged. She didn't have any more weapons on her, and any chakra-based attacks would cut into the limited time she had. Kisame was big and he was _fast. _As soon as she slowed, he'd catch her and take her back to Deidara. Well, either that or he'd steal off with her into the distant forestry and do who-knows-what to her.

"Little girl," she heard him grind out, and was startled to find that he was close enough for her to hear the growl forming in his chest. So she did a full-body whirl around him, backtracking down her original path.

When she landed from one long jump, her sandal slipped and forced her against the ground sideways. As soon as she hit the floor Kisame was upon her, rolling and wrestling with her in the mud.

For once, Sakura applauded herself on wearing clothing that left quite a bit of her revealed. The mud made her skin a bit too slippery for Kisame's grasp, and she easily slid away from him several times.

Finally, he grabbed her by both ankles as she started to scramble away, keeping a firm hold onto her boots. "I don't think so," he growled, looking a bit less menacing when his face was half-caked with grime.

She made a strangled sound and struggled wildly before he could an even better hold. And, thankfully, enough mud had seeped into her boots to allow her to slip her feet out of them. She darted off to the west again in only her socks, dripping sludge everywhere.

She concentrated solely on his chakra then, her heart pounding in her chest and her legs pumping faster with each step. He wasn't moving away from that spot, which was a good thing. She concentrated _so _much on Kisame, in fact, that she didn't even notice when she bumped straight into another black-cloaked chest.

Before she could even register the presence of Deidara, who seemed to come out of nowhere, he was pressing her back to him and holding a kunai tightly to her throat. And really, this was all _extremely _unnecessary. The idiot was probably just trying to play up the image by doing some sort of action-film-trademark move.

"Enough running," he said, and his voice was low and dangerous. Sakura was suddenly more afraid of Deidara than she was of Kisame, by _far. _

Nevertheless, she figured that she'd rather take her chances and attempt escape than give in and travel with the two of them. So she shoved the heel of her almost-naked foot up and into where she suspected—no, scratch that—where she _hoped _was his groin.

Apparently it was, because the kunai dropped from his hand and he released her in favor of covering himself instinctively. He hunched over to gasp and retch pitifully.

A deep laugh sounded behind her somewhere, followed by the side of a thick, heavy hand ramming into the base of her skull. She slumped forward into the bog water, right beside where her former blond opponent was trying not to cry.

Curses. Foiled again.

O O O

"She'd be dead if she'd have kicked _me _there."

Deidara snorted, or, rather, tried to snort, but his lungs were just not going to have it. So instead he fell to his knees, uncaring whether or not he was coated in disgusting, insect-infested water. He was shoving his knees so tightly together that he thought he might shatter them. At least it'd be less painful than _this. _

Kisame laughed a little bit. "Walk it off." He bent down and hauled Sakura over his shoulder like some sort of cargo. "We've got to get out of here."

"G—" Deidara managed, but even this had his throat closing up and his abdomen curling in around him. "Give…"

Kisame, seemingly sympathetic, plopped himself down on a rock, the girl still tossed ungracefully over the hard jut of his right shoulder. "How long?"

If Deidara wasn't in immense pain, he might have killed Kisame on the spot. "I'll kick _you _in the crotch and see how long, yeah," he snarled out of sheer anger-adrenaline, glaring up at his much larger partner, who seemed ridiculously amused at his pain. Grimacing, he tried deep breaths for a second, but that didn't really help the pain now roiling through his abdomen.

However, if Deidara was anything, he was a man, and this fact was painfully obvious to him at that moment. So after a good ten minutes of hearing Kisame bitch about his weakness and several more threats to said shark man's currently intact groin, Deidara was able to lift himself to a shaky stand.

Kisame scowled at him. "Took you long enough."

A dry heave shook Deidara but he was able to swallow it back fairly well. "She's stronger than you think, yeah." He held out one quivering arm.

"What?"

He wiggled the arm fruitlessly. "Help me walk! Lend me a shoulder!"

A look of disgust and shock passed over Kisame's features, and then he simply continued forward. "Sorry. My shoulders are occupied."

Deidara stared in wonderment at his retreating partner. "Occupied by _what?" _

Kisame poked Sakura in the side. "The girl."

He summoned a clay bird in seconds, refusing to speak with Kisame for the rest of the day.

O O O

Deidara had promised himself he'd stay near the coast, but the fact of the matter was that he _hated _water. He'd tried to spar with Tobi in the water once, but he'd found it increasingly difficult, what with the crashing waves and all. Besides, his clay masterpieces turned to sticky, gooey mush when they were exposed to water for too long. Tobi had taken advantage of that, being a wee bit smarter than he looked, and had actually _beaten _Deidara.

It was humiliating.

But then, of course, so was this.

Kisame dove into the spring first, arms outstretched and body perfectly streamlined and straight like a professional. The water roared in protest when he completely submerged himself, and the splash sent Deidara reeling and bobbing in the water.

When he resurfaced, he flipped his hair back behind his head, as it had been plastered over much of his eyes, and grinned contentedly, leaning back against a rock wall.

Deidara sighed and sunk up to his neck in the hot spring. "How long are you going to be?" He really didn't want to stay any longer than necessary.

A large blue finger pointed in his face. "Hey. You owe me."

"For _what? _You wouldn't even help me walk."

Realization dawned over Kisame and he hopped out of the spring, muttering, "Oh, yeah," over his shoulder. When he returned, he had the girl over his shoulder once more. He set her at the side of the spring and proceeded to remove her clothes carefully—methodically.

"What are you doing?" Deidara asked, walking on his knees to get closer to Kisame.

Kisame huffed. "What does it look like? She's dirty."

"And?" Deidara said incredulously, resting one elbow on the ground outside the spring as he stared at his partner.

He pulled off her last sock and laughed, and then, without warning, tossed her in.

Deidara shrieked. "She's unconscious, you idiot!"

Kisame laughed again, louder this time. "Well, then go save her before she drowns!"

"Damn it, this isn't some sort of game!" Deidara tore off his scope, took a deep breath, and dove into the deep part of the spring. The water was scalding against his face, and he knew he'd have a hell of a time pulling the tie out of his hair now that it was wet, but there were more important matters at hand.

Turns out, Sakura wasn't in any real trouble at all. As soon as he approached her, oblivious to the fact that he was stark naked, she'd shouted something that erupted in nothing but bubbles and kicked away from him frantically.

Deidara grabbed her ankle grimly and hauled her to the surface, where she gasped for breath.

She was scolding at him through her panting breaths, but he just glared at her. And if Kisame was there, then damn it, he would have glared at him, too.

"Why—?" she began, but she was cut off when she was dragged quickly down into the water.

Deidara, cursing a blue streak, dove back under, where something grabbed _his _ankle, pulling him down into the dark depths, as well. Of course, the extent of the "dark depths" was roughly nine feet, but it still wasn't anything he was enjoying by any means.

In a split-second decision, he kicked his captor square in the face, grabbed Sakura by her hair, and swam as fast as he could to the world of wonderful, beautiful oxygen. When they ascended to the top he didn't release her, but kept swimming to the ledge of the spring. He threw her over the top, and then heaved himself over, as well, beside her.

They both lay there for a moment, sucking as much air into their lungs as they could, hot water running cold rivulets down their bare bodies.

Sakura choked on a cough, turning over to face him.

He turned only his head, staring at her as he fought for breath.

She bowed her head and pushed herself up, grabbing fistfuls of grass to steady herself. "Was that…was that…a shark or something?"

Deidara tried to laugh derisively, but found he couldn't. "It was Kisame being a retard, yeah."

Sakura collapsed again atop her clothes. "Same thing." It seemed she was too tired for embarrassment, because she pulled her clothes on effortlessly.

For reasons unbeknownst to him, Deidara turned away to give her some decency and draped his dirty cloak around his shoulders.

Neither noticed the blue hand slowly inching its way toward Sakura until it was too late. She screamed, briefly, but Deidara was there in an instant, gritting his teeth and playing a small game of tug-of-war with Kisame over the girl.

"Knock it off!" Deidara yelled at Kisame, who was still submerged.

A froth of bubbles at the surface was the only answer he got, so he used one hand to bite Kisame's wrist. The shark man instantly let go, and Sakura, who was resisting against being pulled into the water, toppled forward.

Once more the two of them lay sprawled over the grass, though Sakura's chest was pressing into his as one of her legs rested between each of his, making him _extremely _nervous.

Deidara scowled and put a hand to his temples. "I don't understand why he does these things, yeah. He's so annoying."

Sakura snorted, not seeming to realize that she was all but straddling a naked S-Class criminal. "I wonder where he gets it from," she muttered sarcastically.

Deidara rolled over, pushing her off in the process, and immediately disrobed, sensing the frown on his back. "I'm washing my clothes, yeah. I don't know about _you, _but I refuse to travel in a filthy wardrobe when I don't absolutely have to."

"I don't think so."

Deidara cast a sidelong glance at her over his shoulder. "Suit yourself."

"You'll just…" In what seemed to be an instinctive move, Sakura crossed her arms over her chest and hugged herself. "You'll just do nasty things to me."

"_Please," _Deidara said, rolling his eyes as he tossed his cloak into the spring. A splash of water signaled that Kisame had retrieved the offending item for some reason or another. He tossed in the rest of his clothes, as well as Kisame's. "If either of us had wanted to do anything to you—anything at all—we would have done so a _long _time ago, yeah." He paused for a second before smirking. "So don't flatter yourself."

Kisame poked his head above the water, just so that his eyes—almost glowing in excited glee at his favorite environment—were able to latch onto Deidara's gaze.

Deidara frowned. "What are you staring at, yeah?"

He lifted his mouth slightly out of the water. "You." And then ducked it back under.

"Why?"

Mouth above water. "I'm waiting for you to jump in." Then right back in.

"_Why?" _

A sly raise of his eyebrows was all the warning Kisame gave before he disappeared into the water again.

Deidara turned to Sakura who was just finishing pulling off her boots and tossing them into the spring. The rest of her clothes were already gone. When she spotted him facing her, a pink tinge crawled over her cheeks, and she attempted to cover as much as she could. "Stop looking!"

Deidara snorted and turned back around.

Sakura dove in the spring.

As soon as her head connected with something solid yet soft, she knew she was in trouble.

Opening her eyes barely, she managed to make out the blurry form of Kisame, the object she had landed on upon diving in. He was swimming a little underneath her.

All at once, he grabbed her around the waist and swam quickly to the complete other end of the hot spring. The spring, itself, was around fifty feet long, so she was forced to stay underwater for quite some time.

When he finally released her, she clutched onto the rock wall for support and gasped, panted, and hacked.

Kisame laughed. "You can do better than that, little girl!"

"Stay _away _from me!" She kept a vice-grip on a particular boulder jutting out from the wall, glaring at the shark man staring at her like she was dinner.

Somebody surfaced close to Sakura—so close, in fact, that she could distinctly feel a slick body pressing against her side—and she scrambled away.

Deidara wiped his face with his hands, pushing his long hair out of his face. He'd managed to pull out the hair tie, and the scope was still missing, as well as his clothes.

And then it hit Sakura, much like a sack filled with bricks.

She was nude, in a hot spring, with two other equally naked members of the Akatsuki.

The fleeting inclination to try and run once more flashed through her head as her face turned an interesting shade of pink, but she dismissed it. Run without clothes or shoes? Even her kunai holsters had been removed to wherever Kisame had put them. Besides, even if she managed to get away from Kisame and Deidara, there was nowhere she could go.

She was trapped by the emptiness all around them, and it wasn't a nice feeling.

"Kisame, if you pull me down there again, I _will _blow you to smithereens, yeah," Deidara warned, raising one foot out of the water to kick the blue man in the shoulder.

Kisame laughed and moved to rest against the wall beside Sakura. Deidara settled himself on the other side of her.

Sakura had never felt more uncomfortable in her life.

"He's not usually this stupid," Deidara muttered, glancing at Sakura out of the corner of his eye. "He just gets excited over water, yeah."

Kisame leisurely stretched, yawned, and then settled his head back, closing his eyes.

Silence fell over them, and Sakura watched the steam rise from the water for a while. Then, almost out of instinct, she spoke. "Where are you taking me?"

Kisame's lips twitched upward into a half-grin. "Everywhere."

Top of Form

Bottom of Form


	4. D is for Diatribe

Found

**Found**

**D is for Diatribe**

O O O

Deidara was panicking.

Someone was wrong; something was _definitely _wrong, because it shouldn't be hurting this much after so long.

He tried to sit up, rolling away from the cradle of gnarled tree roots he had slept in, but almost his entire lower abdomen violently protested. An unbidden groan of pain forced him to lie back down in the grass.

Kisame, who'd been awake since dawn, the crazy bastard, stood over Deidara's supine form. He scratched absently at his chin, which caused drips of water to plop to the ground. "What happened to you?" he mumbled.

Deidara scowled. "The _girl _happened to me," he whined, resting one palm on his thigh for emphasis.

Kisame smiled deviously. "Did she, now?" He glanced to where Sakura lay, asleep and again bound by chakra-resistant ropes.

"Not _that, _yeah," Deidara hissed. "When she kicked me. It's still sore."

Kisame shrugged. "Have her heal it. That's what we brought her along for, isn't it?"

Deidara chanced a look over at Sakura, trying to simultaneously ignore his pain and the dread at her possibly inflicting _more _damage at the mere mention. "I don't think she'll do it, yeah."

"Then don't give her the option." Kisame waved a hand as he walked over to the girl, rousing her from her sleep. _"Make _her. You're the villain, aren't you?"

He snorted. "I don't like the term 'villain.' I prefer 'antihero.'"

"That doesn't work," Kisame carefully pointed out, just as he started untying the ropes form a half-awake Sakura. "You've been the hero a couple of times."

Deidara watched Sakura's strong hands—hands capable of decimating his bits into oblivion—as she flailed them against Kisame, though without any chakra behind them. "When have I saved anybody, yeah?"

"You saved a kitten once."

"Oh, that was _once, _and it was only because I was feeling unnaturally generous that day!"

"The fact remains," Kisame chided merrily, depositing Sakura at Deidara's side.

Deidara winced away. "No, really, Kisame. I don't want this."

"If you don't get healed properly, it's never going to work right again."

"And if she just _happens _to crush it beyond recognition, it's not going to work at _all."_

"What is going on?" Sakura shouted, glaring between Deidara and Kisame, respectively. She rubbed the angry red marks that the ropes had cut into her wrists.

"When you kicked Deidara," Kisame muttered, putting his hands on his hips, "you damaged something."

Deidara sat up and began to scoot away, frowning at the dull ache of soreness resulting from his movements. "No, no, it's alright. I can just bear with it, yeah."

"Be a man," Kisame said, touching Deidara's arm with the toe of his sandal. He turned once more to Sakura, who looked horrified. "Heal him."

"And _where, _exactly," she squawked, scrunching her face in disgust, "is it that I'm supposed to heal him?"

"Where you kicked him," Kisame said simply, as if it was the easiest thing to accept in the world.

Deidara whimpered a little. "That's not necessary, Sakura," he pleaded, shaking his head at his captive. "I'm fine, yeah!"

"Well, I would hope so!" She crossed her arms. "Because I'm not touching you!"

"You don't have to touch him at all," Kisame said, wrapping a slow, deliberate hand around the back of Sakura's neck. "But you _do _need to heal him." He bent low, his mouth beside her ear, and tightened his hand a little bit. "Undo the damages, or you'll find yourself in a similar predicament."

"Kisame, don't do this."

"Deidara, shut _up." _Kisame released Sakura harshly and stalked over to Deidara, who was in the process of standing up and running. He caught him by the back of his cloak. "You talk too much."

"But this isn't just _any _body part!" Deidara protested, even as Kisame forced him to the ground. "This is my d—!"

"You can't be serious," Sakura mumbled. "This is disgusting."

"Don't do it, yeah," Deidara said as Kisame sat down, cross-legged, and held Deidara pinned with a vice-grip on his torso. "I'll kill you when I get up. I swear to you—I'll blow us all up. I'll—"

"You can't be serious," Sakura repeated grimly, inching toward Deidara.

Deidara bucked. "N—no! Vile beast!"

"Alright, that's it. I'm not getting anywhere _near _that thing!"

"As if it's going to jump up and bite you!" Kisame snapped back, as Deidara struggled incorrigibly beneath his hold.

Sakura choked on nothing.

Deidara wanted to die as he watched the girl, nervous and shaking like a leaf, bend over him. She glanced once up at Kisame to see if it was all a joke, but Kisame's expression was stony and serious. So she took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and then set to work.

He bit his lip.

She mumbled something to herself and then reached up to grab the zipper of his now-grungy cloak, dragging it down for what seemed like hours. Her other hand rested comfortably on his hip.

Oh, dear.

Each side of the cloak was pushed carefully aside, and the sounds of Kisame's suppressed laughter were muffled by Deidara's heart pounding in his ears. There were two reasons he was so anxious. Two very, _very _good reasons.

It seemed, then, that she'd gone into some sort of full-out medic-mode, because she kept muttering things to herself, furrowing her brow and pushing at little areas of his sides, which were quite ticklish.

He jumped a little.

She glanced up immediately, a glint set in her eye that Deidara supposed only medic-nin got in their line of duty. "Did that hurt?"

He shook his head.

She returned to her exam, and Kisame laughed.

"Ticklish? Mr. Antihero?"

Deidara chose to ignore that statement in favor of intently watching Sakura poke and prod around his inner and outer thighs. And this probably would've have worsened the number two reason for his anxiety if the pain hadn't suddenly flared.

He grimaced, and she stopped instantly. "Hurts?"

"Yeah."

She didn't say anything more, just continued with her medical process that only she seemed privy to. She untucked his mesh shirt, as well as the gray tank beneath that, and unbuttoned his pants.

He tensed. "What are you doing?"

Her mouth barely moved as she spoke. "You'll get better results if I heal you directly."

Kisame couldn't help a roar of laughter as the ridiculously serious girl of the group tugged the rest of Deidara's clothes below his hips.

A lance of fear shot through Deidara, and he tried to, unsuccessfully, wiggle away again, but Kisame's grip was practically bruising. He had to wonder whether or not the shark man was actually _enjoying _this.

And then Sakura touched him.

…Okay, in all fairness, it wasn't _really _a touch. Her skin never connected with his, and for this he was infinitesimally glad. But her chakra, cool and a mint green in color, certainly touched him. She didn't look fazed at all as he glanced up at her face. She just kept stoic and unfettered, completing another mindless task.

And in seconds, he was already feeling better. He relaxed.

"The damage isn't too extensive," Sakura said, as if she _hadn't _been the one to inflict such an injury in the first place. "Just some bruising and minute swelling."

Kisame laughed uproariously again. _"Minute," _he mocked, closing his grey eyes in mirth.

Deidara grit his teeth. "She said the _swelling _was minute, ye—_what are you doing?"_

Sakura didn't flinch. "Checking the surrounding area for any more damage."

He gave her a horrified stare. "Stop that!"

"Stop what?"

"Ogling and fondling!"

"I'm not ogling you, and I'm _certainly _not fondling," she snapped back. One of her fingers twitched against something peculiarly sensitive, and Deidara clutched the grass beneath him automatically.

"I didn't ask for a physical, yeah!" he fought, keeping a close eye on the movement of the medic-nin's hands.

"It would do you some good! When's the last time you've had one?"

"It's none of your business!"

"The hell it isn't!" Sakura shouted, clenching her fists _after, _thankfully, pulling away from her "patient." "You've both kidnapped—"

"—stolen," Kisame corrected.

"Whatever! You've both taken me with you to become your personal little nurse, have you not?"

Kisame nodded and Deidara huffed.

"And I accept," she continued, putting a hand to her chest for emphasis, "that I'm just going to have to wait it out. Because neither of you are going to let me go anywhere any time soon, and when I _do _try to escape, all you do is knock me out and carry me someplace else."

A quick grin tugged visibly at Kisame's lips. "Well, at least you figured it out on your own."

Sakura gave a resigned sigh. "Yeah." She set back to healing Deidara, and this time her chakra wasn't cool and relaxing, but impeccably warm.

Deidara squirmed uncomfortably. "Are we done, yeah?"

She shot him a glare that could freeze over hell, itself.

"Apparently not," Kisame laughed.

After a few more seconds of trying to beat back hormones, Deidara was very, _very _glad to see Sakura pull his clothes back to cover him. She stood up.

Kisame followed suit, dropping Deidara in the process. "Where are you going, little girl?" he ground out.

"To wash my hands in the spring!" she shouted back. "I suddenly feel very dirty."

Deidara stood, struggling to pull his pants completely to their appointed spot at his waist. After tucking in his shirts, he zipped up his cloak, and then dusted himself off as if nothing had happened.

And that was just it, he reminded himself. Nothing _had _happened. She'd repaired something she'd damaged in the first place—and it felt damn good, if he did say so, himself—and that was the end of it.

He sat down atop a fallen tree and watched the girl, kneeling in front of the spring and scrubbing her hands as if she'd dipped them in poison.

Kisame sat down beside Deidara, snickering under his breath. He leaned a little toward him. "She _really _doesn't like you."

Deidara batted him away. "See if I care, yeah."

The two of them watched as Sakura pulled out her hands from the water, stared at them for a moment, scowled, and then ducked them in once more.

Deidara folded his arms huffily. "It's not _that _bad!" he shouted to her.

She glared at him over her shoulder.

O O O

"There's a town to the north of here," was all that Deidara had to say to make Sakura excited.

It was the second night that they were force to sleep in the great wilderness of the eastern coast, trying to find one dry spot on the ground. Most of the landscape was marshy and so dense with foliage that a person couldn't settle if they _wanted _to, but there were those few islands that they found.

This island was one such stretch of semi-dry land.

She sighed and tried to think of ways her predicament could possibly be worse.

Well, she could have been captured by _Itachi _and Kisame instead of Deidara and Kisame. Itachi had far less pity and was far more of a bastard.

And that wasn't saying that Deidara wasn't a bastard. Oh, no, he was as much a bastard as the rest of the Akatsuki.

He was just…less so.

Or, she pondered, continuing with her inner lamenting, the blue man could have killed her instead of simply knocking her out.

No, nevermind. That would have been a bit better.

She sighed and rolled over, coming face-to-face with the enemy. The enemy being Deidara.

He was asleep, of course, but that didn't stop her from feeling far too nervous, and she sucked in a breath.

One tattered blanket to lie on. Three bodies—four, actually, seeing as Kisame was big enough for two. Ten feet vertically, six horizontally. If she laid flat on her back, she'd be sandwiched uncomfortably between a seven-foot-tall shark man and a significantly shorter blond man.

Oh, yes. Had she mentioned that said blond man had mouths on his hands? Mouths that he just _loved _to flaunt in her presence, apparently, because whenever she happened to glance at them, it seemed they'd lick the front of their teeth, stick out a tongue, or simply smile at her. It was enough to make her stomach churn.

And she couldn't leave Kisame out of this little piece. He was the giant-mother of all oddities. For heaven's sake, he was _blue. _He had _gills _and really tiny eyes and probably had a dorsal fin under that mop of navy hair, if she ever got the chance to look.

But…they weren't unattractive, per se. She'd never seen anyone with a better body before she'd seen Kisame shirtless—okay, he was naked, but she wasn't about to say that out loud—and Deidara's face far outshone the effeminate beauty of Sasuke's while somehow managing to keep his masculinity intact.

Hell, if _all _the Akatsuki had bodies and faces and as much grace, albeit stilted, as these two, she wouldn't mind seeing them. And if she were drunk enough, she might even contemplate joining, if only to stare at the unique handsomeness of each battle for dominance among the pack.

Out of the corner of her eye, she managed to glance at Deidara, still peacefully sleeping. With the hair over his left eye falling to reveal the scope, she was intrigued enough to stare at him for quite a while. She may have been bound, but he was still helpless. Deep asleep, without any immediate weapons on hand. He might as well have been naked.

Then again, there wasn't much she could've done. Every time she so much as yawned, she heard the hitch of Kisame's breath, and then felt his shoulders stiffen. Deidara may not have been completely on task, but Kisame definitely had things under control. If she tried to escape, he'd have her subdued quicker than she could blink.

She could imagine it now: she would stand up quietly, attempt to hop away, and then strong fingers would wrap around her ankles, forcing her to the ground.

"Where do you think you're going, little girl?" he'd ask—no, _growl—_and then proceed to drag her back to her appointed spot.

Deidara would be awake by then, staring at her in disdain, one eye closed lazily while the other examined her intently with the scope. "You need to work on your stealth, yeah," he would mutter, before folding his arms behind his head and pretending to fall back asleep. But really, neither of them would sleep, being slightly more distrusting than the average shinobi—and with good reason.

She tried, unsuccessfully, to wriggle out of the ropes at her feet and hands. With her own brute strength alone, there was no way she could break them. If only they weren't chakra-resistant… As soon as she got back to Konoha, she needed to ask Tsunade about some jutsu to dispel all that nonsense.

Her heart beat painfully at the thought of her teacher and homeland. Tsunade…Konoha…would she _ever _get back? What if they were losing the war? What if Sand and Sound had teamed up against them? And what of her friends? Countless had already perished, but countless had still remained when she'd been separated from her cell. Naruto, Ino, Shikamaru, Hinata, Yamato, Sai, and on and on. The list went on forever, it seemed.

Someone—she suspected it was Deidara—grunted something that sounded vaguely like "Tobi," and shifted slightly, trying and failing to curl the blanket around him.

She was still facing him, so she frowned and closed her eyes finally.

She admitted she was just feeling bad for herself. Deidara and Kisame had lost friends, too, and probably far more than she had. For them to join the Akatsuki…well, something tragic must have happened to them along the path of their lives.

The body heat of the two missing-nin kept her sufficiently warm, and after a moment, she fell into a dreamless slumber, for which she was grateful.

She was unaware of a pair of grey eyes, half open from fatigue, watching the rise and fall of her back as she breathed.­­­­­

O O O

When Sakura awoke, she wished she hadn't.

Something—some_one—_was touching her hip. And this wasn't just a friendly "Wake up, we'll be late!" touch or a "Get your ass out of the sack before I bash your head in," sort of thing. This was an "I love you my darling, so allow me to trace circles around your navel, startlingly close to a very private place that should _never _be touched, and then tickle you awake."

And she _hated _it.

Almost scared for whose hand she would find down there—a large blue one or a pale one, but with a mouth on the palm—she glanced down, half in horror.

And just her luck. It was Deidara's. And her shirt had pulled up there, so the skin was bare.

When she looked up at his face, which was turned toward her, he was still sleeping. His hair was desperately mussed, his mouth was half open, he looked _innocent _by all accounts…but the fact still stood that he'd probably molested her in her sleep.

Breathe, Sakura. Okay. If she got up and ran, well, hop, Kisame would swing her by the ankles like a katana. If she screamed, they'd get mad at her, probably saying something along the lines of, "Shut the fuck up you stupid bitch!" Wouldn't be so bad, but she was so close to earning their trust…and then promptly escaping. She didn't want to break all that building up.

Of course, she pondered wryly, all she'd had to do to gain their confidence in her being a "good girl" was give Deidara an indirect handj—

A tongue flicked out from under the palm and licked her hipbone.

That was it. She screamed.

As expected, Kisame immediately grabbed Sakura, stood up, and pushed her behind him, crouched into a half battle stance and scanning the surrounding area wildly. Deidara was quick to follow, one hand gripping Sakura's elbow, even though she stood behind the brick wall known as Kisame, and slipped the other hand into his clay pouch.

For about thirty seconds, there was silence. Then a frog croaked somewhere.

"Uh…" Sakura squeaked, feeling far smaller than any mouse. "That was…sorry."

Deidara cast a sidelong glance in her direction. "For what, yeah?" He sounded deathly serious, his visible eye hardened and calculating.

Kisame didn't even move or talk, which was somehow more daunting.

She swallowed hard. "For…screaming. There's nothing attacking."

Deidara let out a long exhale of breath and relaxed, tucking the pouch back into some unknown confine of his cloak. "Why _did _you scream, then?"

She frowned, still hidden behind Kisame, even though Deidara had retracted his hand from her arm. "You were _fondling _me!"

Was that a blush? Was Deidara _blushing?_

"That's no excuse!" he roared, and Sakura slunk further behind Kisame. Red from anger. Right.

"You—it—the tongue _licked _me!"

"Its lips were probably dry!"

"It doesn't even _have _lips!"

"Says you!"

"Shut up!" Kisame bellowed, and he reached out to slap Deidara's shoulder so hard that the blond man stumbled. "There's someone here."

Apparently putting his anger aside, Deidara's hand once more found its way to his clay pouch, this time fisting a handful of the stuff in his palms. Sakura watched in abject horror as he withdrew the hand, his little mouth slowly pulling it in with its tongue, where it began to mold.

A deep, threatening, almost territorial growl was crawling to a decent pitch in Kisame's throat, his hands fisting at his sides. Almost instantly, he glanced at Deidara. "Untie the girl."

"And if she runs, yeah?"

"Our lives are more important than her capture. Do it."

He seemed to agree, because he immediately knelt on one knee behind her and started untying the knots carefully. At last, the ropes fell away from her wrists and ankles, and she readied herself instinctively.

Deidara tucked the ropes in his cloak. "Coming from the southwest?"

Kisame nodded. "They're moving slow."

"They don't seem too threatening, yeah."

"We can't be too sure."

A man appeared from the underbrush, wading through the muck. He wore typical civvies, with long rubber boots. His hair, pulled up into a high ponytail, was an inky black. He stared at the three of them, holding a bag slung over his side. It was lumpy and stuffed to the brim with some unknown substance.

From a distance, even Sakura could detect the killing intent in his eyes, dark brown and full of malice.

He crouched a bit, sneered, the three shinobi flinched…

And he waved a friendly hand. "H-e-e-e-e-e-y there!" he shouted, bouncing merrily.

What was she saying about killing intent?

The next thing she knew, he was running up to them, and two more hands were pushing her insistently behind two Akatsuki shields.

She huffed. Now would be a perfect chance to escape…

"Well, hello!" the man said between breaths, wiping some mud off of his face. "It's not often that we get travelers so far out here!"

Nobody was watching her. Both of the boys were intent on not letting it out that they were, indeed, missing-nin. It would be all over if the man recognized Deidara's right-side-out cloak. She could just imagine the way Kisame would rip it to shreds afterward.

"Ah," Deidara started nervously, and Sakura watched the back of his head as he spoke, slightly amused by the way it bobbed up and down. And he was…quite tall. "Well, we like to take in the sights, so to speak, yeah."

It was obvious who the negotiator of the group was. Kisame was the brawn, Deidara the brains, and Sakura was…

Sakura was about to be free of these two pests for the rest of her life, hopefully, if she ever got around to _running._

The man laughed. "Not much to see 'round these parts!" He rocked back on his heels, glancing over his shoulder. "Just the port town. We get lots of goods passing through our hands." A delighted look came over his face, and he grinned broadly. "You should come and stay for the night!"

Sakura took a hesitant step back, her gaze still glued to a head of blue hair. She kept an eye on Deidara with her peripheral vision, but it was _Kisame _that she needed to worry about. He was always so alert, so hyperaware of her and every move she made. It would be flattering if it wasn't hindering her possible freedom.

She took one more step back, and neither of the male shinobi flinched. This was it. This was the time to make her grand exit. And all she had to do was make one great leap, get off to a steady start, and then bound of into those thick marshes.

The toe of her boot dug into the ground as she made ready to dart clean off. And just as the muscles in her calves ached and twitched to run, Kisame grabbed her around the waist and tugged her in front of him.

"Great!" he said, smiling widely. The man didn't seem fazed by his sharp teeth or other odd physical features at all. "Let me introduce my—"

"Your _sister," _Deidara said sweetly, taking Sakura from Kisame, who released her reluctantly. He held her now beside him, one arm slung sloppily—still firmly, though—around her shoulders. "And _my _wife. My name is Oonishi Makoto. I just married my Keiko, yeah."

The man's grin stretched farther, if that was even possible, and he bowed to Sakura-Keiko. "It's a pleasure, milady. I imagine it must feel startlingly wonderful to bear the Oonishi name."

Deidara's arm weighed heavy around her neck, tightening the angle at which it hung slightly, and she swallowed. "Yes. It's amazing. More than I could ever imagine."

At that moment, Deidara's hand gripped hers, and her heart jumped in surprise. "My wife and I are very happy, yeah," he said.

Kisame snorted.

"And _he,"_ Deidara said, motioning with a nod of his head toward Kisame, "is my brother-in-law, Toshiba—"

"Yoshida."

"Yoshida Kenji, yeah."

"Wonderful!" The man clapped his hands and turned. "Well, then follow me! The town isn't too far off." And with that, he set off, hopping from rock to rock through the brown, muddy water.

Kisame started ahead, his jaw set into a tight line, and Sakura watched his back, trying to simultaneously wriggle her hand from Deidara's. The reminder that he had a _mouth _on that palm kept her mind from straying from the pressure his fingers were making against her palm.

He started forward, as well, practically dragging her along. They tailed Kisame, who was apparently following Man-Who-Looks-Dangerous-But-Isn't, AKA Mwldbi.

"Let go," she hissed, trying to tug her hand from his grip.

He turned slightly to scowl at her. "You think I'm enjoying this, yeah?" he asked, jerking their connected hands to make her stumble a bit. "Let's get one thing straight. I _despise _you."

"The feeling's mutual."

"Then I'm glad." He smiled briefly when Mwldbi glanced back at them and waved. When he turned back around, his smile faded to a sneer. "But for now, you're just going to have to pretend to be desperately in love with me." Here he paused. "And I'm going to have to do the same."

"Then why couldn't I have pretended to be _Kisame's _new wife?"

Deidara's footsteps hitched for a second, and Sakura felt an odd sort of satisfaction at this. But he didn't do anything else to indicate this comment had affected him at all. He only dragged her closer to him and continued on to the port town.

As they walked, Sakura stared at Kisame's back once more. Tall. He was _very _tall. Hell, they were _both _tall, but Kisame was almost freakishly tall.

She wondered what happened to his cloak. Why was he wearing rags? And didn't he used to carry around a huge sword?

So she asked.

"What happened to Kisame's cloak? Why is he wearing rags? And didn't he used to carry around a huge sword?" Sakura was never one for subtlety.

Deidara didn't even spare her a glance. "Why don't you ask him?"

She scowled at the half of his face she could see, which, admittedly, wasn't much considering his bangs hid most of it. "I _would _if you'd let me go."

He didn't even flinch. "No."

His hand, wrapped tightly around hers, but not so tight that it would hurt, became something of a warning for her of things to come. And she was honestly scared of what those things were, so she called out to Mwldbi tentatively. "Are we almost there?"

He nodded, but didn't turn. "You can see the gates in the distance!"

And sure enough, there stood the gates in all of their wooden glory, left forever open and welcoming.

Deidara and Sakura caught up to Kisame, who'd stopped before the gates and was watching Mwldbi. Said man was shifting the sack around his shoulder and smiling again.

"It exploded, yeah," Deidara whispered softly so that only Sakura could hear.

She turned to look at him, her hand instinctively flexing around his, even as he slipped it from her. "What did?"

"His—"

A loud, booming sound like a fifty-foot bell being sounded from deep within the confines of the city. Sakura realized that it was the bells they'd used on ships. She'd read about them before.

Their assumed host laughed. "Welcome," he said, throwing his arms in the air, as if laying out his town to them in all of its worth, "to Sakanamura!"

Top of Form

Bottom of Form


	5. E is for Esoteric

Found

**Found**

**E is for Esoteric**

O O O

The smell—no, not smell, _stench; _this was a stench, because saying it was a "smell" would possibly denote that it could be pleasing, and there was just _no way in hell—_of marine life was overwhelming in Sakanamura. So overwhelming, in fact, that Deidara was almost bowled over as he placed a black sleeve over his mouth and nose. The mouths on his hands gritted their teeth.

Sakura, it seemed, was the only one _not _about to gag from the stench. She walked behind Mwldbi casually, arms swaying at her sides and face perfectly stoic.

And this was a little off, because really, wasn't Kisame a fish anyway? But he'd probably been hit the worse as he closed one eye and cringed.

Mwldbi led the three of them to a ramshackle inn, where he talked the keeper into letting them stay for free that night. The keeper insisted that two rooms would suffice; one for both the boys to share, and one for the "darling little lady" to have to herself.

Needless to say, Deidara saw a bit of rearranging in the near future.

"She's sleeping with me."

Or maybe they'd rearrange right at this instant.

Deidara glanced at Kisame as the innkeeper arranged their keys and brochures, too preoccupied to listen in on their situation. "Why you, yeah?"

"It's obvious," Kisame pointed out, as if his reasoning of the situation just absolutely made all the sense in the world, "that I'd be best to keep track of her."

Deidara sniffed, and immediately regretted it. That horrible odor…how could the girl _stand _it? He turned to her and scowled.

She scowled back, but otherwise didn't speak.

The innkeeper summoned a small boy of about ten or eleven to take them to their rooms. He left them in the hallway in front of their appointed quarters with a curt, "Please enjoy your stay."

Deidara stopped Sakura before she could enter her room, his fingers closing around the key in her hand. He pulled it from her gingerly, dangling it before his face and grinning slyly. He felt the presence of Kisame, probably smirking in the same way, and realized they must have looked like madmen.

Well…who was to say they weren't?

Kisame took the keys from the blond man's hands. "Like I said, I'll keep track of her. You go scout the town."

And so Deidara did.

And so _Kisame _did.

O O O

So far, the village of Sakanamura was exactly as it seemed: a slightly wealthy fishing village with way too many women, way too much optimism, and not nearly enough alcohol.

This was fairly normal, considering the fishing economy had been booming since the start of the war. But it was just _odd_ that everyone was so friendly to him. He must have escaped from about fourteen groping hands in the brief half hour that he'd been out.

"Hello again, friend!"

Deidara tried to run. He honestly did.

Mwldbi caught him by the sleeve of his now-inside-out cloak, though, dragging him toward a gaggle of grown men. "We've just received a shipment from an island to the East," he said, ushering toward a stall where a man was busily stirring several dozen cups of what looked like chocolate milk.

His host picked up two finished glasses, handing one to Deidara and keeping one for himself.

Deidara eyed the concoction suspiciously. "What is it, yeah?"

"It's a drink native to this village," he replied merrily, eyeing a younger woman who pranced past them, sipping a drink of her own. "We call it Sakana-shita." He took a long drink, and then loudly laughed. "Try some!" he gasped, and then winked. "Be sure to find a woman when you're through!"

He didn't quite know what Mwldbi meant, but then again, he didn't _want _to know, even as a very large-breasted woman gently dragged her fingers across his hip. "Okay, but what's _in _it?"

He grabbed the woman, and she giggled. He teased her neck a bit as he spoke, and Deidara felt a tad sick.

Yeah. Just a tad.

"Sake, a bit of water to dilute it, orange juice for flavor, and Yohimbine."

Deidara peered into his glass, squinting and swirling the contents. "And Yohimbine is…?"

"An herb," he replied, busying himself with…did he just try to _eat_ that woman's _ear? _"It's like…caffeine…coffee." He laughed gently. "A stimulant, if you will."

"Mm, definitely keeps you awake," the woman purred, swaying her hips dramatically.

Deidara cringed. "But there's sake, right?"

"Of course."

The woman proceeded to drag him off, and Mwldbi waved a hand. "If you want some for your wife, it's free. In celebration!" He fell over slightly, and the woman—probably a concubine—laughed shrilly.

Watching the couple stagger off, Deidara took a sip, licked his lips…and grinned. It wasn't bad. Wasn't bad at all.

And so, without further ado, he grabbed another glass.

"For Kisame," he told himself, making his way back to the inn.

O O O

While Sakura admitted that Kisame wasn't quite as frightening with his hair down, that did not, by any means, constitute her assent at him walking around half-naked.

It wasn't like she hadn't seen a broad chest or strong, toned arms before. And it wasn't that the blue hue of his skin sent her scrambling for sanctuary. It was that he was her _kidnapper, _and she was thinking that he was actually…_not so bad. _And she'd be damned if she developed some sort of Stockholm Syndrome.

"Shower?" he asked suddenly, scratching the back of his head.

Sakura shook her head quickly. "No."

"Why?" And off went the towel.

Sakura turned her head quickly. She'd seen hundreds of naked males before. But this was different. _Way _different. She wasn't giving him a physical or stitching up his kidney, she was sitting on a bed in a hotel room in a village she'd never even knew _existed._

When she managed to look back again, he was dressed—thankfully—and re-fastening a single off-white earring to his left ear. It looked like it might have been a pearl.

About that Stockholm Syndrome…

"Suit yourself," he said, and he stopped when he realized that Sakura was staring at him.

Sakura swallowed the lump in her throat, wringing her bound hands nervously. She turned the other cheek.

Kisame laughed. "You're _embarrassed." _Like a kid in a candy shop. "Because I'm not wearing a shirt?"

"Of course not!" she sputtered, ignoring the blush crawling over her. Maybe if she could think of anything but naked blue men it would go away.

At the moment Kisame opened his mouth, a loud "Oomph!" followed by the sound of a thump alerted the two of them to a presence outside the door.

"Deidara," Sakura said, automatically registering his chakra signature.

Kisame furrowed his brow. "Did he _fall _or something?" He opened the door, revealing a shaken Deidara, brushing the dust off of his cloak.

Sakura tried her damndest not to laugh. She was failing miserably.

Deidara glared at her as he walked by, handing a dripping cup to Kisame. "I'll have you know," he growled, moving to set his own half-empty cup on the nightstand, "that I went through hell and back to get this for you, Kisame. It makes you dizzy." He continued to the bed and lay down on it.

"What is it?" Sakura asked, curious.

"The locals called it Sakana-shita, yeah," Deidara said, folding one leg over the other and draping an arm across his eyes. "They said it was a 'stimulant.'"

Kisame tried a taste of his. "It's good," he commented, taking another greedily.

Deidara nodded, alternating from covering his eyes with his arm to rubbing them insistently.

"Did they tell you what was in it?" Sakura asked cautiously, glancing at the cup Deidara had deposited on the nightstand.

"I don't remember."

"Let me see it."

"Come here so I can untie the ropes."

She inched her way to Deidara obediently, and he sat up to get them undone. Once this was completed, he groaned and rolled over. "Headache."

Sakura grabbed the cup, sniffed it, swirled it with her pinky, and then tasted it. There wasn't any trace of poison, which was good. All that she could detect was a faint orange flavor, sake, and some herb that probably grew around the village area. "It _is _kind of good."

Deidara promptly pulled the covers over his shoulders. "Mm."

Kisame, having finished almost his whole glass, grinned. "Gives you a nice feeling, doesn't it?"

"It's probably the herb," Sakura stated, taking another dainty sip. "There are many that give one a sense of happiness or even delirium, which can also be a pleasant state of mind."

"Sounds like I'll be awake all night long," he said slyly, and he darted his tongue out to lick his lips.

O O O

Fifteen minutes after his comment, Kisame was snoring on the ground, and Sakura was fidgeting at the foot of the bed, her shoulders hunched and her back rigid.

Fifteen minutes had been all it took for the situation to be promptly dumped onto its head, its brains spilling out onto the pretty light green carpet.

_Fifteen minutes later,_ and Deidara now had a raging erection. Either he'd had a very vivid dream about a woman with a very talented tongue in that brief window of time, or he'd been seduced in his half-inebriated state. Neither of which, he may add, he could remember.

And it wasn't going away anytime soon.

Managing enough breath to speak, Deidara weakly called out, "Kisame."

"He's asleep," Sakura said, sounding just as breathless as he.

Ignoring the girl, he called his partner's name again.

"He's _asleep,"_ Sakura chided.

"Wake him up, then."

"_You _wake him up."

"Fine!" And so he got up from the bed, suddenly glad that he was wearing a baggy cloak, and knelt at Kisame's side.

"Kisame," he said, nudging the man's side with a finger.

He mumbled something unintelligible and batted the offending appendage away.

Deidara shook his partner by the shoulders, his attention snagged on the earring that the man oft chose to wear. He'd never seen it so up close before…

He gave up on his quest to rouse Kisame, instead focusing on his own reflection that he could barely make out in the ornament, entranced by the shapes. He was going insane. Absolutely insane, but _oh, _it was such a _wonderful _feeling, and he was sure that nobody would mind if…he just…

Before he knew exactly what he was doing, he was taking Kisame's earlobe into his mouth, feeling the clasp with his tongue and occasionally grazing skin with his teeth. Such soft skin. Was it this soft everywhere?

His lips traced the curve of his partner's ear, and the fleeting thought that he would systematically maim _him _for touching him like this and _Sakura _for allowing him crossed his mind. But that was just what it was: fleeting. And so he disregarded it in favor of placing a hand firmly on Kisame's jaw to steady him.

Kisame mumbled again, and wonderful vibrations made Deidara groan.

Sakura chose that moment to appear. She gasped in horror. "What are you _doing _to him?"

Deidara jumped back, mouth gaping and hands flying up as if he'd been burned. He stared at Sakura, his expression mimicking hers. "What…what…"

"Were you…were you just _molesting _him?"

"I…oh. Oh, no. Oh. Oh. Ew. Ew." Deidara put his hands on his head, rocking back and forth, his visible eye haunted. "I did. I think I just…I…oh, no."

Sakura squirmed and joined the two men on the floor. She grabbed Deidara by his ankle, making him twitch. "I think I know what was in those drinks."

"What? The Sakana-shita?"

"Yeah." She swallowed visibly, making Deidara a tad nervous, even as he panted and clutched at his hair with his hands. It wasn't enough that people questioned his sanity; oh, no, now they were going to question his _sexuality, _too!

"It was probably some sort of herb for helping impotence."

"And what the hell is that supposed to mean, yeah?" Deidara asked, quite certain that he was on the verge of tears. He'd just practically seduced his sleeping partner—practically seduced _Kisame, _of all people.

"Impotence is another word for erectile dysfunction."

This had Deidara sputtering. _"I don't have erectile dysfunction!"_

As if against her will, Sakura glanced at his lap, coughed into her hand, and turned away. "Apparently not…"

Deidara groaned in frustration—very different from the groan he'd emitted not too long ago. "It's not my fault and you _know _it's not, yeah."

"I know that!" she defended, her voice high-pitched. Much like that woman's on the street.

A proverbial light bulb blinked on in Deidara's head. "Wait…_you're _affected by it?"

Her blush deepened, and she crossed her legs tightly. "Of course not! I—I—"

"You _are, _yeah." He laughed in disbelief. "This is ridiculous. I can't believe it."

"We…we're just going to have to sleep it off, then."

She must have been joking. She _had _to have been joking, because there was no way in heaven or hell that he would be able to sleep something like _this _off, unless "sleep" was somehow a euphemism for "fuck something blind." Because that might help. _Might._

He scrambled away from the shark man on the ground, retreating to the bed at the same time as Sakura.

Sakura squeaked and jumped up, pressing herself against the opposite window—as far away from him as possible. "So then what are you going to do?"

"Not 'what,'" Deidara mumbled, mostly to himself. "But 'who.'"

"If you touch me, I swear on everything, I will—"

"Not you!" he shouted in annoyance, but really, _really _wishing it could be true.

"Then…Kisa—"

"_And not Kisame, either! _Never Kisame!"

"Hey!" Sakura shouted back, apparently just as snippy from the sexual frustration as Deidara. "I'm not the one who brought _impotence-away _drinks in here!"

And then he couldn't stand it anymore. Things were going fuzzy, his head was spinning, he was aching in places he shouldn't ache at in the presence of…of _Kisame, _and he needed to fix it.

Sakura was just going to have to lie down and take it.

Well…hopefully.

So he stood, watched her try to retreat farther against the window, and pinned her in place. Two arms rested against the glass pane on either side of her, and she shook and shivered like a leaf in the wind.

Little leaf, hmm?

When his body touched hers, it was like fire meeting fire—a collective upward motion of pure energy, compounding and rolling, sizzling off at the ends, making him drag his nails down the window.

She didn't look like she was doing any better with her eyes shut tight and her mouth half open, breathing like she'd just run a dozen miles in five minutes. And she was warm—oh, so warm that he could just bury himself in her for an eternity.

"Stop it," she protested lamely, but he put a hand over her mouth to quiet her.

"I _can't." _And that was _entirely _his fault, but he wasn't about to let that slip past any time soon.

Perhaps unbidden or perhaps not, the tongue on his hand slipped out to touch her lips. She jolted, gasped, as if the simple action was actually painful. Her mouth opened against his palm, and _her _tongue…her tongue was touching the one belonging to his hand.

He pressed her tighter against the glass, nudging his thigh between her legs to pin her securely in place. There was no way he'd let her get anywhere. Not when she did such things to him that he'd only ever imagined before.

She gripped his wrist with two small, gloved hands, her medic-nin fingers kneading and rubbing over the lengths of each knuckle, the very outer edges of his hand, itself… And maybe his other hand felt a bit denied, because he started making good use of it by unzipping the front of her tunic.

She stilled.

He faltered.

And when his hand slipped under her bra to touch her bare breast, her hips rolled into his.

He gasped and copied her, and she cried out, pulling away from his hand to toss her head to the side and clutch at his shoulders.

"Deidara, stop it," she breathed, but even as she did, her hands roamed over his shoulders, smoothed over his neck, followed the curve of his jaw with her fingertips. He leaned into every touch, panting and drawing her index finger into his mouth.

She made a noise that was half pleasure and half pain, writhing underneath the grip his body had on hers and making all kinds of wonderful friction.

His pants needed to come off. _Now._

He released her hesitantly, and she slumped, smoothing the fingers that had been in Deidara's mouth across her lips and tasting them.

Deidara watched her for a moment, feeling, for all rights and purposes, as if he was going to explode in more ways than one. So he took her by the waist, guiding her to the bed, and allowed her to fall onto it. He pulled his cloak over his head, took off his mesh shirt and tank top, and followed her.

"Not right," she said weakly, allowing him to pin both of her hands above her head with one steely grip. The other hand pushed her tunic completely aside, and he licked and kissed a path from her collarbone to her navel. "Not right. Not true."

"You're not complaining," he growled, tugging off her medic skirt and shorts in one deft pull.

"I…I _was." _

"But not anymore." Not anymore, because he was eliciting noises he could probably blackmail her with later if he so wished. Not anymore, because his thumb was parting her—

She bucked, and he got a face full of nothing but _pure _Sakura. Not that he was protesting, mind. "D…"

He rubbed over something experimentally. "Don't?" he teased carefully. "Is that what you were going to—?"

"_Deidara!"_

The exclamation shocked him into stillness, and the problem of his pants was suddenly more prevalent than ever. He pulled away from her only long enough to discard them. Then he was back, hovering and grinding against her.

"Say it again."

"S…say what?"

"My name."

"Deidara?"

If that stupid Saka-whatever drink could make him feel like he was on fire in about the span of ten minutes, he didn't want to know how he'd be faring in another five.

"Deidara…" she breathed, tangling her fingers in the sheets and bringing him all that much closer to her with her legs. Her face, her voice, the pressure she was building inside of him with just a simple puff of breath across his ear was all too much to bear.

He wasn't going to last long.

So he bit the bullet and somehow maneuvered the two of them so that he could easily rest his palm flat against her sex.

"What're you—?"

A tongue flicked out.

She prepared scream, but Deidara sealed his free hand over her mouth while the tongue on his other thrashed and jerked and tried to fill her completely.

She began to whine, probably something she didn't even realize she was doing, and convulsed ever so slightly, arching against him and making him groan. It was almost _painful…_

"Hey! Keep it down!" A bang sounded on the leftmost wall.

The voice—belonging to neither him nor Sakura—shocked him, and he jumped, which set off a very interesting chain of events.

First, Sakura came, and came _hard. _Her eyes, wide and green and startled, stared intently while she arched into him, alternating between gasping and whimpering.

Second, Deidara came, because he'd been stuffed full of aphrodisiac and a bit of alcohol, and because there was a very sexually attractive woman rubbing against him. It wasn't as embarrassing as it should have been, really, but he didn't exactly care at the moment.

Third, before he could even catch his breath and force his heart to stop beating so erratically against his ribcage, he was falling asleep. And the same could be said for the medic-nin, because she wasn't protesting against his weight or trying to move.

And fourth, Deidara dreamed of a place where there was only sunshine and happy days, and where regrets and sadness didn't exist.

The Yohimbine in his system, once pumping and burning in his veins, eventually ebbed until it disappeared entirely.

It was then that the nightmare began.

Top of Form

Bottom of Form


	6. F is for Flavor

Found

**Found**

**F is for Flavor**

O O O

The splash of water was oddly relieving as Sakura threw those damned chakra-binding ropes into the ocean. They'd been her worst enemy for a little over two days, and finally being able to toss them over a cliff was quite satisfying.

She brushed off her gloves and stared in the direction she had just come from, frowning at the hair lashing around her face and sticking to her lips. The spray of the ocean misted her front, though she didn't move.

Sakanamura was nowhere to be found.

Her feet seemed to move of their own accord, and she began to run once more, keeping to the coast and hopping from rock to rock. Once or twice she would dart to the actual beach, down a long, rocky precipice, and hide herself among the landscape expertly. She kept her chakra masked, but they were still former Akatsuki members. They'd be tracking her relentlessly by now.

She ran for hours and hours and hours, passing by village after village, always keeping well out of sight. She ran until her calves were burning and sweat was soaking her shirt. Her feet were screaming for her to rest, but she didn't.

They'd kill her if she did.

She'd have to face _him _if she did.

She'd have to face the reality that an S-Class criminal—a member of the Akatsuki—a sick, twisted, demented, morbid shell of a man who got his kicks from blowing people to bits and then dancing in the rain of their carnage—had done things to her that…

She shook her head fiercely. It wasn't her _fault. _She'd drank something that acted as an aphrodisiac, and that mixed with the little bit of alcohol had made her mad with lust. It had clouded her judgment and destroyed all moral senses she'd ever held dear.

But at least she hadn't completely, full-out had sex with him, and for this she was glad. She may have been inebriated, but she remembered it all as if she _hadn't _had foreign herbs—_drugs—_pumping through her system.

She neared another municipality—this one was slightly larger than the last couple—and a ray of hope shone somewhere within her. The larger the populated borough, the better her chances were of it being a major city. She had no idea where she was, besides that she was near at the east coast of the continent. But if she could just find a place that housed the Leaf embassy, or one that could at least point her in the direction of it… Surely then she could make her way back home.

She tried to remember the basic geography of their beloved little hunk of land. But even then, she would have seen _multiple_ ninja roaming about by now or at least a hidden village of the respective country. So it was possible that she was in one of those few-and-far-between ungoverned areas. They were the areas that were mostly rural, neutral places lacking any and all involvement with their shinobi neighbors. Simple, slow, easy-going people governed each small village, and it was a simple, slow, easy-going life.

So _that _was why they had noticed neither Deidara nor Kisame for who they were. Hell, even _she _had a chance of being recognized. She was the pink-haired apprentice of one of the legendary sannin—the student of Leaf's Hokage, the slug-woman.

Sakura lowered her eyes as she approached the large, seemingly bustling city, biting back the wave of hopelessness she could feel swelling just beneath the surface. "Tsunade…I promise I'll be home soon."

She was the only one she had left.

O O O

They'd been flying around the sky on Deidara's clay bird for hours. His eyes hurt from scoping the landscape, frantically searching the coastlines, forests, bogs, oceans, and even the air. The girl could be anywhere by now.

"Hopeless," Kisame said, and his pupils retracted to their normal sizes as he withdrew his chakra net. "She's gone."

"We have to keep looking, yeah," Deidara muttered, pulling away from the edge of their avian transport to remove his scope and rub agitatedly at his eyes. "It's not even about wanting a medic-nin by us anymore. She'll inform the Hokage first thing that two members of the Akatsuki somehow survived, and they'll hunt us down until we're gone for good."

Kisame sat back, staring up at the clouds.

"We just aren't strong enough," Deidara continued glumly, even as he replaced the scope and blinked to adjust it, "to ward off the fleets that they'll send. We alone aren't able to do it, yeah."

"Hidan is still out there," Kisame said, sort of distantly, squinting into the grey of the heavens. "I know he survived."

Deidara returned to searching the scenery below them, leaving Kisame to keep searching the sky. "But even if he is, he'd kill us on sight."

"Why?"

"If he _did _survive, which I'm sure he did because of that whole immortal thing," at this he waved a dismissive hand, "he'd be furious with Leader and the organization in general, yeah. He'd blame _us _for it."

"That's stupid. He knows it wasn't us. It was _Leader _for being an over-confident, power-hungry prick."

"Still, it's the principle of the thing." He glanced at Kisame briefly. "Didn't you notice? Hidan hated being in the Akatsuki. But he stayed, because it was good karma in the eyes of his religion, yeah."

Kisame was silent for a moment. Then: "How do you know all of this?"

His eyes lowered, and he tried to ignore the frown forming across his lips. "Let's just say I was dedicated to the organization."

His blue-haired partner sniffed. "Some sort of emotional attachment, or what?"

"More of a dependency, yeah."

"Lonely?"

He looked at Kisame over his shoulder again. "Who wasn't?" He turned his attention back to the ground below them, and the beat of the bird's wings momentarily distracted him. "I joined…because I was in pain. Someone put me in pain, and it was the only way I could think of to relieve it, yeah."

Kisame laughed. "You're reasons were no less selfish than any of ours, Deidara. Don't kid yourself."

"I'm not saying they were. And I'm not saying I regret it."

"But you're justifying it."

"I'm _explaining _it, yeah. Since when are you my personal therapist?"

"Since when do you care now that the dust has finally cleared?"

"I _don't."_

"You do. That's why you're telling me your reasons for joining. By trying to get _me _to believe and accept and even praise your decisions, you're actually attempting to make it easier for _yourself _to believe and accept them."

He huffed. "You don't think I praise myself?"

"I'm sure you do," he laughed gruffly, picking something off of his shirt. "But that doesn't mean you like it."

"Alright, that's enough psychoanalyzing me, yeah," Deidara snapped angrily, glaring at the trees moving beneath them at an alarming, blurring rate.

"You regret what you've done?"

"Shut up."

He laughed again. "Most everyone does, eventually."

Something that stuck out from the scenery caught his eye, and Deidara slowed the bird down a bit, zooming in on the object with the scope. A small pink and red dot dashed between each crosshair, zipping quickly along the coast. Waves crashed onto the rocky beach, and the occasional gull soared past unnoticed.

He grinned broadly and swerved the bird to loop toward the ground, just on the other side of the city that she was heading in a beeline for.

"You found her?" Kisame asked as the sudden drop in altitude caused their ears to pop.

Deidara nodded. "Guaranteed she's looking for an embassy, yeah."

The bird neared the ground, and Kisame pulled on a mask to cover all but his eyes, grey and alert even as the water around them splashed in all directions from the bird's landing.

Deidara rolled up his pants legs to his knee and removed the tattered cloak, holding it before him.

"You have to get rid of it," Kisame said as he hopped down, uncaring of the water that covered most of his feet and drenched the hems of his pants. "We're getting into bigger cities, now, and they'll recognize it."

Deidara nodded and reached into the clay pouch at his hip. He produced one of his explosion birds, which stared up at him blankly as he set it atop the cloak. The cloak was placed neatly in the water.

The bird blinked and Deidara turned away. "Come on, Kisame."

His partner nodded, joining him at his side as the giant bird disappeared into the mud at the bottom of the bog. The small bird sat sentinel atop the discarded clothing.

When they were about two hundred paces away from the landing site, an explosion rocked the forest.

Kisame smiled bitterly, but a hint of satisfaction tinged the edges of his voice. "Couldn't just put it all behind quietly, could you? _Had _to go out with a bang."

Deidara copied the sentiment. "Nothing lives forever, yeah."

And to this, Kisame agreed with a deep, rumbling chuckle. "Was fun while it lasted."

O O O

In truth, Sakura paid absolutely no notice to the city or its inhabitants as she strode through the preliminary gates. The few guards on duty watched her walk, apparently determined that she was harmless enough to get through the first examination. But the second set of gates had a full search operation they needed to run her through. They had her remove everything from her pockets, which wasn't much save for a few discarded wrappers for medical tools, and even take off her boots and empty them out in front of them. She was then moved to a new terminal, where a female guard was summoned to pat her down.

She was determined safe and received a bright orange badge to wear, signifying that she was a guest and not a permanent resident. When she decided to leave, she would have to return the badge. If she lost the badge, she would be forced to pay for it. She even had to write her name down on a sign-in sheet, as well as the date and time. From what a nearby guard told her, it was one-eleven pm on October the twenty-fifth.

"And how long will you be staying?" he asked, nodding his assent.

"I'm looking for the Leaf embassy, actually. Is it here?"

The man pointed to the tallest building in the gated city. It reminded her faintly of the Hokage Tower back at home. "Not in this village, but that's the information building and office of the mayor. They'll tell you where to find it."

She bowed slightly. "Thank you very much." And then she went on her way, straight to the offices.

The building itself was polished and clean-smelling, with several people waiting in the lobby. A few receptionists spoke busily on the phone as they wrote things down, and she even brushed past a lovely little fish tank on her way to the main desk of the place.

The woman there was giving information to someone on the phone, apparently telling them where and when they needed to make an appointment.

"November twelfth at eleven-thirty, that's right," she said, nodding as she wrote down the date in time in a large leather-bound book. "I apologize that that is the soonest we can get you in, but the mayor is very busy with keeping things in line here." She paused for a minute, opened her mouth to speak, was apparently cut off, and then made a sound of concurrence. "The war, yes. It's been terribly hard on all of us." She glanced once at Sakura, smiled, and then glanced back at her book. "I do so hope it blows over soon. Leaf and Sand have my full support, if you don't mind me saying." The person on the other end said something that made the woman nod again. "Akatsuki?"

This had Sakura perking up. The leaf of the plant on the desk she'd been fiddling with dropped from her hands.

"I've heard brief mentions, but nothing too detailed. Something about an explosion or a malfunction within the group."

Another silence.

"No, of course not. I imagine that if any members the Akatsuki," she whispered the word as if it were cursed, "were still around, they'd be completely impartial to the war. After all, it's none of their business. I'm sure they don't care either way, the selfish mongrels." She looked at Sakura apologetically. "Well, I'll let you go now. I have someone I need to help now." She confirmed the appointment and hung up the phone, then sighed in relief and brushed some burgundy bangs away from her eyes. "I'm sorry, miss, what can I do for you?"

"I need to speak with someone about the Leaf embassy."

"Foreign affairs are handled on the third floor," she said, pulling a small map from her desk drawer and handing it to Sakura. "From there, go to the green room indicated here—can you see it? Good. You'll want to talk to the receptionist there, and she'll tell you what you need to know."

Sakura nodded and tucked the map into her pocket. "Thank you."

"You're from Leaf?" she asked, just as Sakura was about to walk away.

"Yes. I'm Haruno Sakura," she said, hoping against all things that the woman would recognize her. "A medic-nin from Leaf and apprentice to the Hokage."

"You have such a pretty name," the woman said, grinning again and oblivious to the importance of being a direct student of the _Hokage._ "I wish you luck on returning! And be careful with that war going on."

She nodded again, this time a bit more dejectedly. Large city that it may have been, it was still in neutral civilian territory. These people knew little to nothing about Leaf, Fire, Sound, or any of the other shinobi countries.

She made her way carefully to the elevator, but then decided against taking it and went for the stairs instead. She was still being hunted. She needed to avoid taking unnecessary risks at all costs.

When she finally arrived at the third floor, she immediately recognized the groups on ninja strolling about. Most wore Rain or Mist headbands—two of the countries that _weren't _at war—though she spotted that _might _have been from either Rock or Sand. She hadn't gotten a good enough look to be sure.

The receptionist here wasn't quite as kind as the one on the first floor, and she forced Sakura to take a number and wait her turn.

She glanced down at the ticket. Forty-three.

An automated voice came over the loudspeaker. "Twenty-one at Gate C."

Sakura groaned. There were only three gates and twenty-two more people that needed to be seen. The spaciousness of the room had thrown her off to the number of people that waited their turn.

So, without further ado, she plopped down in a free chair. A mother beside her was nursing her child beneath a blanket. She didn't appear to be wearing any visible markings of her country.

The woman saw Sakura looking and smiled. "I live in this town," she clarified sweetly. "But my son lives with my ex-husband in the Fire Country. I'm requesting a visa so that I can visit them."

Sakura smiled back. "I'm from there. It's a beautiful place to live. What's your son's name? I might know him."

"Satou Makoto," she replied, her brown eyes wide and hopeful. She went on to describe her son, but Sakura wasn't listening.

Makoto. Deidara. _Danger._

The woman was staring at her again, and so Sakura shook her head. "No, I'm afraid I've never heard of him."

"Twenty-two at Gate B," the loudspeaker announced, and the woman rose, pulling the baby away from her chest and cradling it as it fell asleep immediately.

"That's my number," she said happily, and she slung her purse over one arm. "It was nice meeting you."

Sakura nodded. "You, too."

And then an instant later, all of the twenty or so shinobi in the room tensed into their own battle stances, Sakura included in this group. There was a presence loitering just outside the doors leading to a balcony, a presence that Sakura was all too accustomed to. It was a chakra signature that was loud, so to speak—in terms of identifying levels of chakra, his was absolutely outrageous and boisterous compared to normal _jounin—_and it caused her stomach to flip nervously. The person, who had apparently dropped in from the heavens, pushed aside the balcony doors and strode inside, covered from head to toe in rags.

Hoshigaki Kisame pinned Sakura's gaze with his.

He was gone the next second, and so was she, sliding just out of reach of one large hand as he groped for her. In her haste to escape she knocked over a potted plant, sending dirt and clay pieces across the floor.

He didn't speak as he repeatedly tailed her, and Sakura cursed the worthless shinobi that proceeded to quickly exit the room via the stairs, elevator, or even the balcony. And really, while Kisame's company was quite intimidating, he wasn't _that_ scary.

A flash of teeth caught her attention, and she ducked out of the way quickly. Kisame landed against the wall directly beside her head, crouched, and then pushed off in her direction.

Okay, so he was _extremely_ fucking scary when he wanted to be, but damn it, why wasn't anyone calling for help, or at least trying to evacuate the civilians? Ridiculously greedy, lousy, selfish bastards—

She evaded what would have been a swift kick to the ribs with a clone, and she darted off behind an empty receptionist desk. When Kisame came close, she shattered it with her fists, sending shards of wood and plastic shrapnel in all directions.

She made a break for the balcony. Who was she if she wasn't Sakura, the girl-who-excelled-at-tree-walking? Running down the side of a building was no different than hauling ass down a tree trunk; that was for sure.

Something caught her ankle, though, and swung her around to meet a hard surface that felt surprisingly like a broad, warm chest. Two hands held her shoulders in a vice grip that was sure to leave bruises in the morning.

Kisame stared down at her for a moment, the excitement of battle glinting in his pale eyes.

She grunted, struggled, attempted to kick him, and even drew chakra into each endeavor to wriggle out of his grasp. But nothing seemed to work, and eventually he raised a hand to, undoubtedly, perform his latest favorite action.

And Sakura would be _damned_ if he got the chance to knock her out again.

Taking him off guard, she skated on her heels between his legs, appearing on the other side of him and landing a well-placed kick to the back of his head. Well, that certainly was beating him at his own game.

She watched as he groaned, fell to his knees, and then collapsed on the neat tile floor.

The skylight suddenly exploded in a shower of glass that cut wherever Sakura's skin was exposed.

Deidara fell through it, baggy Akatsuki-grade pants billowing and his hair a tangled mess from who knew what. In one hand he clutched a small clay bird, and the other was pressing flat against the floor, driving him backwards atop another less-than-decimated desk before she could blink.

"Come back quietly," he warned, outstretching the hand with the bird, "and I promise not to blow you up, yeah."

He was out of the way quicker than she could shove her fist into his pretty, smug face, and for this she was _very _disappointed.

He landed next to Kisame on his toes, as graceful and flighty as ever, grinning maniacally. Kisame pushed himself to his feet slowly, growling and using a piece of a broken chair for support. The two stood side by side, faces of indescribable fury and exhilaration brightening the gloom of the impromptu battle arena.

And then Sakura remembered who she was up against.

_Akatsuki._

She raised two tentative fists and groaned in exasperation. "Oh, fuck me."

Deidara grinned and released the bird, where it fluttered a bit around his head, and then headed toward Sakura gaily. "If you insist."

Sakura glanced between the two S-Class criminals warily, briefly registered that Kisame was moving and moving _fast, _and then the bird was landing on her nose.

A blue blur was all that she saw before the bird was knocked aside, where it exploded in midair, taking out a whole section of a wall.

Wait… It _exploded?_

She glanced in horror to Deidara, who was, in turn, glaring at Kisame like he'd just kicked his puppy.

And Kisame was _pissed._

He took a step toward Deidara, pushing Sakura behind him once more, though he kept a hand tight around her arm. "What the fuck are you _thinking?"_

"Disposing of the evidence! What do you _think _I'm thinking?"

"That's a bit fucking counterproductive, don't you think? That's the whole reason we stole her in the first place!"

"She's no use to us any more!" He motioned wildly—angrily—to Sakura, who was still half-hidden behind Kisame. "Look at her! She's too much of a damned hassle to keep around, yeah."

"Unless you can find a market that sells medic-nin who just _happen _to be apprentices to one of the cages, then you let me fucking know, because if that's the case, then I'll gladly dump this girl off in some ditch somewhere. But otherwise, we keep her."

"And if she gets away again? Then she's going to go run her mouth to everyone and their mothers that two Akatsuki survived!"

Kisame ran his free hand through his hair, visibly trembling in rage. "So you think that blowing her up is going to fix everything?"

"The dead don't talk!"

"The dead don't fucking _heal, _either!" He whirled around, grabbed Sakura by the hair, and tugged her forward.

Sakura thrashed. "Let me go, you son-of-a-bitch!"

Deidara, seemingly fed up with the world and everything within it, kicked her hard in the gut. She curled around the injury instinctively, grunting.

A crash sounded from somewhere near the stairwell, and two pairs of Akatsuki eyes immediately glanced to the source.

"Talk later, yeah," Deidara said quickly, sprinting toward the balcony.

Kisame slung Sakura over his shoulder and followed, and soon they were out in the bright sunlight again.

The two men jumped over the railing of the balcony, and for a moment, Sakura was _sure _she was going to die. What were they, psychopathic _and _suicidal? Out of all the people in the world, she had to have been kidnapped by them.

But her thoughts—hopes, perhaps?—were dashed when Kisame landed on something solid, yet anything but stationary, and the object with which they were floating with took off into the sky.

She managed to get a glimpse of flapping wings and the smoking mayor's office turning into just a speck in the distance before Deidara pulled her into the center of the vessel by the throat.


	7. G is for Gravity

Found

**Found**

**G is for Gravity**

O O O

A few dozen clay birds flew from their place atop the much larger bird, all headed toward the city they had just left. Not more than thirty seconds later, the city went up in a cloud of smoke, flames, and eventually ashes.

Sakura screamed. "You _bastard!" _

Deidara tightened the grip he had on her throat. "Shut up."

"How _dare _you? What gives you the right? There were innocent people in that city!" The image of the woman with her baby sprang to her mind, and an insufferable rage filled Sakura. She tried to flip up and kick Deidara in the jaw, but Kisame held her ankles down securely. _"You sick fucks!"_

Deidara kept his mouth in a tight line, staring at the some point on Sakura's arm. Kisame was frowning, thought he didn't say more.

The receptionist from the first floor; she had been such a nice woman. And all of the shinobi…the people who had just been going about their daily business…

Against her will, she began to cry in violent, shaking sobs. She hated herself for it, because it wasn't _just _about the loss of life in that city. It was about the war, all the funerals she'd been to because of it, and because these two men just thought that it was okay to kill someone completely uninvolved.

Kisame looked away slowly, though he kept a tight hold on her ankles, and Deidara hunched over slightly. The curtain of his long bangs brushed against and tickled her neck, but she kept crying and closed her eyes to block out the column of smoke rising in the distance.

She couldn't deny that she'd killed people herself on occasions, but they were killings of necessity. Deidara had just decimated a whole village…for no other reason other than he was angry at her, or that he didn't like the architectural structure of it.

And Kisame was no better. He _knew. _Yet neither of them showed any remorse. She'd always felt a certain sense of guilt after killing someone. She didn't understand how that feeling could _not _come natural.

"I—" here she hiccupped, "—I hate you. I hate both of you! This is all your fault!"

When Deidara sighed, she could feel his breath against her cheek. "The feeling's mutual, yeah."

She opened her eyes then, surprised at how close his voice sounded, and was met with that single blue eye, piercing and vibrant. The scope twisted and whirred, drawing the external appendix into itself.

She sobbed again, turning her head to the side. "You have to stop this."

He kept his gaze on her—observant, calculating, attentive even without the use of his scope. And he stayed where he was, so that when he spoke his words would warm her ear, cold from the wind blowing past them.

"Stop the killing," she pleaded, turning and twisting under the grip of the two ex-Akatsuki. "I'll help you. I'll be your medic-nin." She squeezed her eyes shut tightly, trembling. "The war is hurting enough people without you two helping it along."

Deidara seemed to contemplate this for a moment, but he ultimately stayed silent about the topic, instead opting for sitting down cross-legged so that her head lay against his folded legs instead of the clay bird. His hands gripped her wrists firmly, the mouths on them tightly closed.

Finally, he spoke. "I'm not promising you anything, yeah. I'm a _shinobi. _Kisame and I are—were—in the Akatsuki. It's impossible to give up killing."

"I never asked you to give up _that _kind of killing. Just the killing of innocents."

"Still unavoidable," Kisame muttered, and a distant rumble in the clouds alerted the three of them to the impending downpour.

"All I can say is this: cooperate, and we won't do anything unnecessary, yeah." A few seconds after Deidara's reply, small raindrops began to fall.

Sakura hiccupped again, suddenly feeling tired after her outburst. It was funny how crying always made her impeccably drowsy. "Fine."

The only sound for a long while was the wind roaring past the bird's form and the rain beginning to pick up.

Then, and in a whisper from the man whose hold loosened against her wrists, "We're just trying to survive."

"Deidara," Kisame said gruffly. "Land somewhere."

The bird did as asked, swooping down toward the ground slowly.

"You didn't think of the repercussions while you were in the Akatsuki?" Sakura asked distantly, still sniffling a bit. "You didn't think that, should the organization ever fall apart, life would be _harder _on you than it was before?"

Nobody replied to her question, though Kisame rubbed a particularly deep gash from a stray glass splinter on her leg. "We need to be healed soon."

She took this as a "no."

O O O

They landed in a particularly well-sheltered area, and of this Deidara made absolutely certain.

He admitted that throwing one of his bombs at the girl had been a bit of an overreaction to the circumstances, but it was the heat of battle. Deidara had been panicking, because he was used to attacking from long-range. The small office of the building had been too enclosed, forcing him to flip and dance around the girl's punches.

He hadn't been _used _to it, damn it, and maybe he'd switched back to his pre-Akatsuki, pre-self-preservation days for a brief second, but he'd gone completely black until Kisame had batted the bomb away from her face. And even then, he'd been filled with such an insufferable rage that he'd wanted to throw a bomb at _Kisame, _too.

But he'd held himself in check. Kisame was no pink-haired medic-nin. Kisame was no pretty little girl from Konoha. Kisame hadn't willingly, albeit drunkenly, _climaxed _from a simple touch of the bloodline limit on his hands that had most people running scared.

Granted, he _had _tried to molest Kisame in his sleep, but this was a fact he was trying desperately to forget. And God help him if the shark man ever found out.

He shuddered at the thought.

Kisame glanced in his direction. "Cold without the cloak?"

"Something like that, yeah." He quickly turned his attention to Sakura, who was healing a few of the more serious cuts and scrapes on her body. When she finished moments later, there was still dried blood coating her, but no visible lacerations or contusions.

She turned to Deidara, and Deidara began removing his mesh shirt and tank top, pushing aside the wave of déjà vu.

And then she turned purposefully to Kisame and started to pull his shirt over his head.

Deidara stopped undressing halfway, hands still clutching the hem of his own shirt. A spike of anger made him narrow his eyes, but it was gone as soon as it came.

Kisame looked a bit surprised, a bit confused, and _very _pleased. He allowed her to pull off his couple layers of shirts, and then for her to press one gentle hand against a visible cut on his lower stomach. Blue skin glowed from the green light of her chakra as she started the healing process.

She went through the standard, mechanical procedure. Where does it hurt? Can you count to twenty for me? Please try and walk in a straight line. Good.

She got around to the back of his head, where it was still sore from the hit that she'd given him. One hand was placed to a spot just above his neck, right at the base of his skull, and Kisame sighed. He leaned forwards and touched his forehead to her shoulder, though whether this was unconscious or not, Deidara couldn't tell.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, she turned to him, though her frown was turning into a considerable scowl. "Where does it hurt?"

He finished pulling off his shirts and pointed to a place on his collarbone. "Here. I think it's bruised, yeah."

She huffed and set to work. "You're lucky it's not broken."

He rolled his eyes. "You say it like it hasn't happened before."

She glanced up at him for a second. "You've broken it?"

"You tend to break odd places on your body when you're in the Akatsuki," Kisame said, stretching, yawning, and settling back against a tree.

A less-than-comfortable silence drifted between the three of them, and as soon as Sakura finished with Deidara, she gathered her things and stood.

"Where are we headed next?"

Kisame shrugged. "Somewhere."

A flick of annoyance flashed in Sakura's eyes, and Deidara was surprised that he caught it at all. "And where exactly is _somewhere?" _she asked, scowling. "We can't just amble around like freakish, nomadic hippies!"

"And why can't we?"

And then she grew red. "Because…because we just _can't!"_

"Why?"

She stomped an enraged foot, and by the way that the ground trembled slightly from the added chakra, it became very obvious that she wasn't playing around. "Because _I, _unlike _you_ disgusting pigs, need sustenance! I need stability!" She counted off the various things on her fingers. "I need at least two meals a day, a bath every three days _in the very least, _a comfortable, sustainable roof over my head, and a lifestyle that doesn't consist of me traveling with two full-grown, mass-murdering, sadistic, psychopathic, belittling, belligerent, absolutely _obnoxious _jerks!"

Deidara blinked.

"And if you both just sit there and think that I'm going to settle for any-fucking-thing _less, _than you are sadly, _sadly _mistaken, because I will not, I repeat, _not—"_

A thin strip of cloth was wrapped around Sakura's mouth, courtesy of a very frustrated, very aggravated Kisame.

"Thank you, my friend," Deidara sighed. "Thank you very much, yeah."

Kisame nodded. "Head north, then?"

O O O

"It's such a beautiful day. Don't you agree, Kisame?"

"Quite so. I dare say it rivals yesterday's fair weather rather nicely."

"Indeed. Care for another spot of tea, yes?"

"Please, good sir. Oh—this reminds me, Deidara, you simply _must _take a look at the new rose bushes I've planted near my porch. They're blooming wonderfully this time of year."

"Is that so? Well, I should come and see them soon, then. I'm surprised more flowers haven't bloomed 'round this town, yes. The days have been absolutely _gorgeous _as of late."

"Agreed. And have you spoken with that pink-haired child recently?"

"Why, the Haruno Sakura girl? Such a delightful name."

"Yes, she's that one."

"No, I don't believe I have. Why do you ask?"

"She was wearing the loveliest bracelet the other day. I saw her strolling about with that younger fellow…oh, what's his name? I've never been good with names, my friend."

"Ho, never worry: my mind is a steel trap. I do believe that she is engaged to one…Uchiha Sasuke, yes."

"Yes! That's the one. Hmm…I have to wonder whether that bracelet was a gift from him."

"Most likely. You couldn't pry those two away with a reinforced metal pole, yes. It's oh-so charming, though. They do bring some life to this old town."

"Yes, yes, quite so. Well, my tea has run out. And look at the time, Deidara! I really should be returning to my garden. Those roses and gardenias and carnations will certainly wilt without me!"

"So soon, dear friend? Well, if it must be then it must be, yes. Have a lovely day!"

"And you as well! I tip my hat and bid you adieu!"

"Adieu, then!"

And then lightning crashed somewhere, and all the sunshine and flowers melted into a bleak darkness.

Sakura awoke with a groan, much to her dismay, and to the feel of two strong hands shaking her shoulders roughly. When she peered into the offender's face, Deidara solemn, shadow-lined face peered right back.

She tried not to cry tears of frustration.

What had happened to the sun? Where was the white picket fence community? Where was the place where Kisame and Deidara weren't ex-Akatsuki, but nosy old neighbors with nothing else to do but gossip and sip tea and grow roses near their porch?

Where were her friends? Her family? Her home?

Where was _anything?_

"Get up," Deidara muttered, pulling her by the arm in a twisting, painful motion to stand. "We have to go."

"Why?" she found herself asking, trying to imagine him back on that bright porch, sitting at a green cast-iron table and smiling at the people walking by. "What's going on?"

"It started raining harder. We have to find better shelter than just the trees, yeah."

He'd been so proper in that wondrous, grinning dream. The "yeahs" were replaced with "yeses," and he'd been polite. And Kisame had followed the example, as well. It had made them a little more bearable. Still quite annoying, but bearable, nonetheless.

She stumbled once over a tree root, only just realizing that she was soaked down to her socks. _Again. _

"Come _on," _Deidara hissed, a little louder this time. "There's a storm, yeah. Do you _want _to die?"

"Die from _what?"_

Lightning flashed across the sky again, followed by an ominous, rumbling roll of thunder.

"That! It could hit a tree, the tree could fall on you, and _bang, _you'd be dead." He took hold of her arm and led her expertly through the labyrinth of trees.

She didn't really comprehend how he could be so _alert _upon being awoken so suddenly. But then they found a cave—a dank, dark, for all rights and purposes _frightening _cave—and Sakura didn't really care anymore.

All she knew was that she did _not _want to go in that cave. He'd woken her up in the middle of a beautiful dream, scared the wits out of her, and now he wanted her to crawl inside _this _little hellhole?

"Deidara, I'm not going in there!"

He did a slight double-take at that actual usage of his name, or at least she _supposed _that was what it was, and then rolled his eyes. "Just shut up. Let's go."

"No, I really don't want to!"

"I don't give a _damn _what you want, yeah!"

She abruptly began to sob again. "Of course not!"

He released her arm and blinked hard, brow furrowing.

It was so ridiculous for her to cry, really, and at such an inappropriate time, too. But her emotions had been running at the near-overflow level since Deidara and Kisame had taken her captive, and she found herself getting upset more and more often over little things.

Granted, being held prisoner by two men that could very well kill her in an instant wasn't a "little thing," but she hated crying, and now wasn't the time to do so.

He grabbed her once more, but by the wrist this time, and led her inside.

The interior of the cave was just as daunting as the _ex_terior, if not more so. And though it was small, it was not cozy by _any _means. In fact it was deathly cold, and Sakura immediately began shivering, having regained her senses.

Kisame had removed everything but his inner clothes, consisting of shorts and a thin tank top. Deidara soon followed suit, and then glanced at Sakura.

Sakura took a deep breath.

This was no dream. She was no scared little girl.

And they were no hungry wolves.

_They were all just trying to survive._

So she plucked off that dirty old tunic, removed everything beneath that, and stood shivering in nothing but her dark blue shorts and sports bra. She didn't even want to think about the fact that it was white, because she had to be mature about this. She had to be professional.

So she slipped on her medic-hat.

"We need to share body heat or risk the chance of contracting hypothermia."

Deidara glanced at her briefly, and she could tell that he was frowning even through the gloom of their shelter. "I don't think it's cold enough for _that, _yeah."

"But we can't risk it."

He rolled his eyes. "Then shut up and come here."

She did as asked, settling in beside Deidara, who was lying beside Kisame. "First things first," she said, shuffling so that her head was sufficiently pressed into Deidara's chest, "keep your head—especially the back of your neck—warm. That's where you lose most of your body heat."

"Yeah, yeah."

She couldn't tell whether Kisame or Deidara had said it, because Deidara was _way _too warm to be normal. It was almost _sinfully _comfortable.

"Second, if you touch me, I will _not _hesitate to punch you."

"Sure."

"And third, if anyone starts shivering violently, wake me and tell me."

"Will do."

"Fourth…"

Suddenly, everything was quite groggy, and she didn't remember the fourth rule of Sakura's Guide to the Prevention of Hypothermia.

"Fourth…"

"Fourth is sleep."

And so she did.


	8. H is for Horology

Found

**Found**

**H is for Horology**

O O O

He didn't know how it had happened. And even as he stared up at the dark ceiling, counting the rocks stuck in it, counting the minutes that passed, counting every _breath _that the girl drew in, he wondered at the way things were looking at this particular moment.

He'd made it abundantly clear to both her and Kisame that he didn't want her around anymore. He didn't want her presence always hovering beside him, he didn't want her pink hair just skirting the edges of his vision, he didn't want her hands smoothing over his flesh, healing his wounds before he could even think to lick them clean like the dog he was so proud to be.

He didn't want her anymore.

But he was also lying horribly.

He did, he didn't, he did again, then he didn't; it was always a mental tug-of-war. One day he'd remember the hotel and her reactions to his bloodline limit, to the thing that left most people laughing or grimacing at him, and he'd want to sneak behind her and put a hand to the small of her back. Because Kisame wouldn't notice if he just slipped the other hand under her shirt, kissing without moving his head an inch and leaving delicious little love-bites all down her sides that she had to heal in the morning.

Then another day he'd look at her and his heart would ache, because this lovely creature couldn't be and never _would _be his to coddle and cherish. And it wasn't that he was prone to jealousy or selfishness by any means, it was just that he really, _really _wanted to be able to wake up and see her smiling over him and smile back. So perhaps Kisame wouldn't notice if he just leaned over her shoulder real quick and stole a small kiss from the corner of her lips.

Still on other days, though, he _hated _her. He despised her very being and wanted to blow her to pieces and feed the remains to the insects at his feet. She disgusted him because she was so clean and demanding and sure of herself. She disgusted him because she was so innocent and such a do-gooder. And hopefully Kisame wouldn't notice if he just slit her throat with a kunai while she slept, tossed her in the ocean, and blamed a group of rogue bandit-nomads.

He could do it now, too. Kisame had woken up at the break of dawn, as usual, and was out scouting the area. The girl—_Sakura—_was still asleep, defenseless. He had a kunai strapped to his left leg. Just pull it out, roll over quietly, press the blade to her neck, and slide it across, taut, thin skin. And blood would fill in the incision, pool, spill over her collarbone, between her breasts, and it would stain her shirt so deeply that he'd have to burn her clothes just to rid himself of the reminder of her presence.

Perhaps unconsciously or perhaps not, he pulled the kunai slowly from its holster at his thigh. He turned to Sakura, still sleeping soundly, and got on one knee and then two, hovering dauntingly over her.

The hand gripping the kunai started to sweat, and he kept the mouth there tightly closed. He'd never liked the salty taste. Just one of the downsides of having mouths on his palms.

He lowered the weapon to her throat carefully—anxiously—as he moved one knee to the other side of her. He sat back slightly, so close to straddling her that it was almost disturbing. And the kunai inched closer still, pressing the sharp point once against her throat and tracing a thin line from the base to beneath her chin. The fine streak of blood that appeared almost instantly shouldn't have surprised him, but it did.

The blood formed a small dot at the beginning of the score before growing to race down the side of her neck, hitting the ground below them. It really wasn't much blood at all, so why was he panicking?

His hand clenched around the kunai before he tossed it backwards in anger, straight out of the cave and into the trunk of a tree, where it stuck perfectly. He leaned over her, took her face in his hands, and gritted his teeth, pressing his forehead against hers. _"What are you doing to me?"_

He could feel her chest rising and falling beneath his, breasts pressing into him, every precious breath pushing past his level of consciousness. When he pulled back to see the results of his work, that small, almost unnoticeable strip of blood, an overwhelming flash of guilt passed over him.

He'd just tried to _kill _her, hadn't he?

He leaned forward and pressed his lips to the beginning of the cut, kissed it once, and then darted out his tongue to taste it, copper and salt and something purely primordial in the rush it gave him. He slicked up along it, sucking and licking particularly hard at the places where the blood had begun to dry, erasing any and all evidence that he'd inflicted any sort of wound upon her. And even when all traces were gone, he continued, confused but not entirely disappointed with the quickening of her breath and the arching of her back.

He slipped one arm behind her shoulders, holding her propped up a bit for better access. He moved his mouth to the curve of her jaw and then to the corners of her lips, skirting just on the edge of a kiss and never daring the plunge even further. He was pushing his luck as it was. How long did he have before she woke up and beat him to—?

She awoke with a gasp. "Deidara?"

He pulled back almost instantly, but she caught him by the collar with two strong hands.

"_Deidara?" _she repeated incredulously, still panting, still staring at him with wide, brilliant eyes.

He opened his mouth to say something, but found he couldn't. Instead he just gaped lamely, inches away from her, slightly embarrassed that she could probably _feel _his erection pressing into her lower stomach pleadingly. "I…I…"

She tried to move out from underneath him, turning and twisting and clutching at his arms to get away, but he pinned her tight, the friction of her movements making him shudder and struggle. "Ah…"

She stopped instantly, apparently feeling the result of her endeavors. "Deidara, what…?"

He licked his lips. "Right. Um…"

Her eyes narrowed, and all traces of sexual tension drained, thankfully. "If there's some way you can explain this to me without getting your teeth knocked out, _all three sets of them, _then by all means, be my guest."

"Well, you see…"

"And why is my neck bleeding?"

He held up a contradicting finger. "I can explain that."

"Really?"

"Yes."

"Then please do."

The finger drooped. "I…uh…I have an S and M fetish."

"Sadist-masochist?"

"Yes."

"_Really." _No humor. Just warning.

Deidara was suddenly very, _very _afraid for his masculinity. "Yes, really. Sadist part. I like…inflicting pain."

"And did it ever occur to you that perhaps I do not enjoy receiving pain?" she asked sweetly, able to appear dangerous even as she was pinned securely beneath Deidara.

He glanced up and to the left. "Yes, it did _cross _my mind, but I never really paid _attention, _yeah."

A well-placed knee into his groin had him reeling, cursing, and hacking up nothing. And of course Sakura healed it. But not after not-so-gently informing him that if he _ever _tried anything like that again, she'd ingrain chakra next time.

Needless to say, he was very, _very _glad when Kisame made his appearance moments later, three fish in hand.

O O O

"Where are we going?"

"The northern peninsula."

"Why?"

"Because there's a harbor there."

"I see. And after that?"

"Rock."

"Why?"

"Because we need a place to settle down."

"Ah."

And thus Deidara watched them from the background, arms crossed in front of him, snorting and harrumphing and occasionally rubbing his jaw in annoyance. Who did Kisame think he was, anyway, acting so friendly? This was strictly disobeying the unwritten rules of their engagement.

"Hey, Kisame!" he called, even though both the shark man and Sakura were barely ten feet in front of him, "I think we'd all appreciate it if you stopped fraternizing with the captive, yeah. You're making us look soft."

"Actually," Sakura replied, grinning charmingly at Deidara over her shoulder, "I'm really enjoying his company. Right, Mako?"

Deidara sneered. _"Mako? _Who the hell is _Mako?"_

"Kisame's new nickname," Sakura stated proudly, tugging on one of Kisame's sleeves. "I just made it up. I think it suits him."

They kept walking, but Deidara was shocked into silence. "Mako," he repeated slowly, disbelievingly, trying his hardest not to stare at Kisame's smug face. "As in the Mako Shark." Statement. Not a question. He didn't want to know the answer.

"Exactly!"

If Kisame was Mako, what was he? Caucasian Male? This was getting ridiculous.

And then, apparently out of nowhere, what looked like a _fishing line _was cast straight into Kisame's head, where the hook tangled in his hair.

Sakura blinked, and Deidara watched, amused.

Kisame scowled. "What the hell?" He removed the offending item, turning it over in his hand. A small, dried fish—most likely a sardine of some sort—was strung through the fish hook, staring blankly at nothing with its shriveled eyes.

Deidara approached his comrade and captive, following the glint of the fishing line carefully. It carried far off into the forestry, and he used his scope to zoom in on the exact location of the base. Someone was crouched in the bushes far off, hiding, most likely. "What is—?"

The line tightened and tugged, and the fish hook somehow managed to catch the side of Kisame's mouth. Kisame yelled out an obscenity or two, unsuccessfully trying to detach himself while keeping the line from pulling him.

"Hold still, hold still!" Sakura shouted, urging him to stop with two hands on his shoulders. He didn't obey though, and just kept spitting and damning everything to the deepest bowels of hell.

The telltale sound of reeling and hurried footsteps through the brush alerted the three of them that someone had fucked up _somewhere _and was now rushing to them. Each shinobi crouched into battle positions, Kisame still fighting to remove the hook in the process.

"I caught him; I caught him!" The person jumped out from the foliage, fishing pole in hand, still reeling it in and making Kisame thrash around wildly. "Whoa, look at the size of that sucker! I'm gonna have good eatin's tonight!" It was a boy of about eight or ten, dirty from head to toe.

Deidara couldn't take it anymore. He doubled over with laughter, tears stinging his eyes.

Sakura looked horrified. "S—stop that! You're hurting him!"

The boy looked at her like she'd just sprouted a second head. "Are you kidding me, lady? Of course I'm hurting him!" He looked back at Kisame, a predatory glint in his brown eyes. "And I'm gonna hurt him more when I gut him later!"

"Who's going to gut _who?" _Kisame bellowed, grabbing hold of the fishing line and jerking it forwards.

The boy stumbled, growled, regained his footing, and jerked it right back. Kisame howled in pain. "Stop resisting, buddy! I already got you! There's nothing you can do! I don't know how a fella like you managed to get out of the water and start walking on land, but I'm gonna eat you either way!"

Deidara thought he might die. He fell on two knees, holding his aching stomach and damn near on the verge of sobbing in joy. He couldn't remember the last time he'd laughed so hard.

"Enough!" Sakura shouted again, grabbing the fishing pole out of the boy's hands. "You can't eat him; he's not a fish!"

"_What? _Lady, are you insane? Look, he's blue! And he has _gills!"_

"That doesn't mean anything!" She snapped the fishing line with her teeth and tossed the pole down.

The boy sighed and picked up his pole, slinging it over his shoulder. "Okay, I'll make you a deal." He waved dismissively, closing his eyes in agitation. _"I'm _hungry, _you're _hungry…" He glanced at Deidara with one eye open, who was still chuckling serenely to himself and cleaning his scope, smeared with joyous tears. "Your boyfriend's probably hungry, too, I suppose. If you help me gut it, I'll share."

"_To hell with that!" _

Kisame grunted as he pulled the hook out of his cheek, spitting out some blood. "Little shit… Just wait until I get a hold of you!"

The boy pointed in Kisame's face. "Don't talk to me like that! Dinner can't disrespect its master!"

Exasperated, Sakura turned to Deidara. "Feel free to step in at any time!"

He grinned, took a deep breath, and did just that. He knelt down in front of the boy with the dirty face and the pout across his mouth, putting a hand on his shoulder. "As much as I hate to say this, you can't eat Kisame, yeah."

The boy's face turned down into a scowl, but Deidara leaned forward and whispered in his ear. Gradually, his face lightened again, and he stared at Kisame in wonder.

When the blond picked himself up, stifling chuckles, he nodded toward him. "You see, that's why my wife—not my girlfriend, we're _far _past that point—and I keep him around."

"Wow! That's so…so cool!"

Deidara waved a hand toward his blue comrade, who was busily getting healed by a frowning Sakura. "I bet he'd let you touch him if you apologized."

"_Really?"_

"Sure."

The boy approached Kisame, suddenly sheepish, trying to hide the fishing pole behind his back. "Uh…sir?" He scuffed the dirt with his feet. "I'm really sorry about what happened. Honest!"

Kisame stared at him in disdain, sneering. "Really."

"Yes, sir. Um…may I…may I touch you?"

Kisame glanced at Sakura, who shrugged. "Why?"

He balled his fists. "Because you're so _awesome! _I've never seen someone like you!"

Grudgingly, and after much prompting from both Deidara _and _Sakura, surprisingly, he held out an arm with a sigh.

The boy's eye glittered and he smiled wide, feeling Kisame's fingers, tapping the worn, chipped plum nail polish, and plucking one of the hairs.

"Okay, that's enough," Kisame grunted, pulling his arm back.

The boy situated the pole more comfortably on his back and turned to leave. "It was nice meeting you all!" he said, beginning to walk away. "I have to go now, though. Mom'll be worried."

Sakura waved. "You, too. Just…be more careful with that fishing pole, okay?"

"Will do." He waved to each of them individually and bounded off into the trees. "Bye, Mr. Mermaid!"

Kisame visibly stiffened. _"Mr. Mermaid?"_

Deidara snorted. _"Someone's _been demoted. From Mako to Mr. Mermaid, yeah? You're really going places, Kisame."

"What did you _tell _him?" Sakura asked, rubbing her temples.

The blond grinned. "Just that he was a mermaid."

"_What? _Why? I'm not—!"

"Hey, it was either that or let him keep believing he'd be able to take you down and eat you, yeah."

"Moving on," Sakura said forcefully, starting to walk, "we should get going. The boat's not going to wait for us."

"Where is it?" Kisame asked, bending down so that Sakura could stop what she was doing and heal the small cut inside of his mouth—quite an interesting task when she refused to put her hand inside.

"A few more hours north," Deidara answered, summoning his bird with a movement of hands and a small flash. "If the weather holds up, it shouldn't take us long."

They were climbing aboard the thing soon thereafter and taking off from the forest floor in a scurry of loose leaves and twigs, flying high above the treetops and toward the boat that would take them straight from neutral country to the place that Deidara had originated.

He sighed and rubbed his cheek with the back of his hand. This was going to be interesting.


	9. I is for Ineluctable

Found

**Found**

**I is for Ineluctable**

O O O

First off: There were boats. Lots of them.

Second off: There were gulls. Lots of them.

Third off: There were people. _Too many of them._

And Deidara didn't like crowds.

Especially when he had to pretend to be married and lugging around a deadbeat brother-in-law in crowds. Though, admittedly, this discovery of annoyance was the first of its kind.

He jerked Sakura forward by their connected hands, and she stumbled a bit.

"What the hell was that for?"

"You were going too slow, yeah."

Her hand clenched around his dangerously. "Well maybe if you didn't walk so damn _fast," _she mumbled under her breath, scoffing. After a second, though, she perked up. "Hey, where'd Mako go?"

Deidara set his jaw. _"Kisame. _His name is _Kisame. _And he went to buy us tickets, yeah."

She moved in closer to him, pressing her whole right side against his left, their hands still tightly clenched together. It was forced and awkward and downright uncomfortable, but it was what they had to do.

He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. "What?"

She buried her face into his arm, nuzzling his bicep with her nose. To anyone else it would just look like an innocent display of affection, but Deidara knew better. He patiently waited for her to speak.

"Where did we get the money?" she muttered under her breath—on a sigh.

He stretched a faux smile and leaned slightly toward her. "We didn't."

"Then how is he buying tickets?" A little angrier this time, but that was fine. Nobody was paying attention.

"Swiping them."

She nuzzled particularly hard and hissed, _"What?"_

He shifted his shoulder so that it bumped her nose, and she drew back, frowning at him.

"He _has _to," Deidara said, glaring at nothing in particular. "Unless you'd like to strip down and prostitute for us, yeah."

"Of course not!"

Quickly, he wrapped an arm around her side and pushed her to him once more. "Stop that. You'll blow our cover."

She snorted. "We're failing miserably at it, anyway."

"Maybe if you were a better actor, we _wouldn't."_

"Oh?" she half laughed, half sneered, trying to draw away, but he held her tight. "And I suppose you're doing any better?"

"I'm not yelling at my significant other on a crowded boardwalk, now am I, Keiko?"

"For your information, Makoto, normal couples _do _fight."

"They also do a hell of a lot more than hold hands, yeah."

"You're holding my hip! It's different!"

Three flashes of beige waved in front of Deidara's face, and he forgot what he was going to say.

Kisame grinned behind said flashes of beige. "Got them."

Deidara immediately released Sakura's hand and snatched one of the tickets, reading quickly over them. "They're legit?"

"Of course," Kisame replied, handing Sakura hers. "They're blank, too. We just have to write our names in."

"Seriously?" Deidara asked, inspecting his ticket. And sure enough, the name line was blank, with the departure time and other necessary information scrawled sloppily beneath it. "These people were stupid, yeah." He watched Sakura pull a pen out of her pouch, scribble on her hand to make sure it worked, and then press the ticket against her thigh so that she could write her alias.

When she finished, she handed the pen to Deidara, and he messily signed "Oonishi Makoto." He passed the pen on to Kisame, who repeated the process, then tossed it back to Sakura, who pocketed it.

"We're ready?" Deidara asked.

Kisame nodded. "They'll think it's odd that we don't have any luggage."

Sakura shrugged. "It's none of their business anyway."

"Their business or not, we have to keep it believable, yeah," Deidara mumbled, leaning against a lamppost.

"Bandits stole it, then," Kisame said, folding his arms. "It's not uncommon."

"Yes, but then why didn't they steal our _tickets?" _Sakura asked warily, glancing around for anyone who was possibly listening.

"We had them in our pockets at the time," Deidara answered simply, pushing himself up to stand straight. "I think our story's okay now, yeah. Let's get moving."

They followed him down the pier, near the harbor, and through the gates leading to the ship.

The ship itself was fairly large; it looked to be either some sort of cruise liner or a large passenger ship. Many people were boarding in front of them, rushing to and fro, clutching small children by their arms or hands, dragging luggage behind them on wheels or slinging it over their shoulders.

Deidara frowned. "This isn't going to work."

Kisame made a grunt of agreement. "I didn't think it would."

"So what now?" Sakura asked, glaring at Deidara like he'd just thrown her into a lake.

Oh, and how he wished he had done so. A long, long time ago.

Come to think of it, simply kidnapping her for him and Kisame's own ends was a _stupid _idea, in retrospect. Honestly, what had they been thinking? That she would resist? That she'd come quietly? That she'd just wholeheartedly agree to heal them without being an obnoxious little fuck—

"Deidara, take Sakura and get us some luggage."

Deidara's frame stiffened and he took a shocked step back. _"Me? _Kisame, I can't get us any luggage!"

Kisame scowled at him. "Keep it down. If I go slinking around again, they're going to notice that we're up to something."

"But _me?" _Deidara asked again, giving him a disbelieving look. "I'm terrible at lies! You know I am!"

Sakura scoffed. "You're apparently a damn good actor."

"Yeah?" Deidara said, growing angrier by the second. "Then _you _go fucking jack us some luggage." He waved a hand toward her, the teeth on it gritted and gnashing.

"_Fine." _She grabbed that same hand, dragging him toward a shop. "Let's go, _Makoto."_

Deidara stumbled forward, throwing Kisame a glare over his shoulder.

Kisame waved.

O O O

"So how do we go about this?"

Deidara's hand tightened around hers. "Go about what, yeah?"

"Well…you know. Getting luggage," she whispered.

He shrugged. "Just act casual about it. Play the part. Act like a happy wife."

Sakura took a second to think about it as he led her toward a gift shop. How did happy wives act, anyway? What did they talk about?

She tried to think back to the few conversations she'd heard in Konoha, and the fact that she didn't feel an overwhelming film of despair over her thoughts at the mention of her hometown didn't even register with her.

The older ones talked about nothing in particular. Usually business things.

The younger ones talked about—

"Start a conversation," Deidara hissed, tugging her closer to him.

"Babies."

His steps hitched.

Bright red dusted over Sakura's cheeks. "Just…just go with it."

"_Babies," _he repeated incredulously, never turning to look at her. "Okay, what about babies?"

"I want one."

She saw his shoulders stiffen and his hand twitched. "You…want a baby."

"Yes. I want a baby boy."

"Well, what if I said I wanted a girl?"

"I'd say that you're crazy," Sakura said as Deidara held open the shop door for her. When he returned, her hand was right back inside his. "Girls are too difficult."

"Funny thing for _you _to be saying that, yeah," he muttered.

"What'd you say?" Sakura asked, slightly indignant.

"I said kiss me."

"_What?"_

He flashed a charming grin. "You're so cute."

Sakura almost sneered, but then she remembered the game they were playing. Deidara really _was _a good actor. Either that or he wasn't as partial to the idea of acting like newlyweds as she thought.

So she pressed closer to him, smiling and laughing gently. "Don't do that to me. You'll make my heart stop."

He picked up a large bag and slung it over his shoulder. "Well, we wouldn't want that, yeah."

She could've sworn she'd heard a bit of sarcasm in his tone, and she bumped him with her hip.

He stumbled slightly as they walked right out the door.

And then the alarm went off.

"Shit!" He grabbed her hand a little tighter and took off through the throngs of people, as far away from the store as he could get.

Their feet tapped against the wood of the pier as they darted between buildings and even over some, until they were completely _out _of the pier, on a grassy stretch of land just before the harbor that led off into a long jetty.

Deidara tripped over a rock here, tried to catch himself and failed, and pulled Sakura down with him quite by accident.

She landed on top of him, and besides the grunt he gave out at her weight and the rocks no doubt pressing hard into his back, he was quite soft and hard and warm all at the same time. Contradiction, yes, she knew that.

He caught his breath a second later, arms instinctively—or so she hoped—around her waist. And since her face was buried in the crook of his neck, she could very easily feel and hear the way his breaths came slower, evening out.

"Are you—" she began, but he cut her off in a whisper.

"Someone's coming."

"Where's the bag?"

"Just start talking"

"Again?"

"_Do it."_

She sat up just a bit, laying her head on his collarbone so that her face was toward the ocean. She heard the footsteps and began to speak. "I don't think I'm ready."

"For what, yeah?"

"For a kid." She felt him tense beneath her. All part of the image. So she'd play along. "I mean…it's just… It's really soon."

His arms slipped so that he could rest his hands on her waist, and when she looked at his face, he seemed slightly…out of it. He really _was _a good actor. Well, came along with being an artist, she supposed. "Don't get me wrong," she said, sliding down so that she straddled his thighs, and she heard him grunt again. She sat up straight and stared down at him, hands limp against his chest. "I'd _love _to…to be with you forever. I'd love to have something to keep us together and that would be a wonderful experience."

She noticed, rather absently, that these were words she would have spoken to Sasuke once upon a time. And it was so much easier to pretend that the face with the thick fringe of blond falling away to reveal brilliant blue eyes taking in every inch of her expression _wasn't _the face of an insane man who'd kidnapped _her _and killed far more.

Then again, Sasuke was no better.

His thumbs traced small little circles just above her hipbones, and she shivered. It gave her the chills, even as she leaned down to brush her nose against his. "I would want nothing more," she whispered, "than to have your baby."

The look on his face was slightly heart-wrenching, and she didn't even have time to think about it as he placed one hand behind her head and pressed her lips to his, leaning up into her, mouth moving against hers in a way that was familiar and absolutely foreign all at the same time.

She was surprised, to say the least. He'd been a flippant, horny bastard for the most part of the journey—not someone she'd easily fall in love with. Not that she was even beginning to _think _about simply being able to bear him now, but his behavior was definitely taking a step in the right direction.

Especially so when he sat up, one hand supporting them both, planted flat on the grass, and the other threading into the hair at the back of her neck, lips still tracing hers, tongue occasionally skimming over her bottom lip or her teeth.

The people who'd been chasing them melted away, the fact that he was her kidnapper completely disappeared from her mind, and the niggling thought that he was the _enemy _absolutely didn't mean a thing, because this was what she'd been waiting for. This was what she'd been hoping and wanting all her life: She'd been waiting for someone to kiss her like it was the last kiss he'd ever get, hold her like he didn't want to hurt but just couldn't summon up the will to let go, and put every fiber and essence of his being into how he moved with her.

He pulled back only slightly to take a heated breath, more of a sighing groan than anything, before he was right back, pushing her in such a way that she was forced to arch and sit a bit higher than him, her neck bent. She put her hands over either side of his jaw, fingers barely brushing over his ears, and he mumbled something against her that she didn't even really take the time to register.

His other hand moved to rub up and down her side soothingly, his upper body strength enough to keep them both upright. And then his tongue was an insisting presence against the crease of her lips, and she parted them a little more. He was there in an instant, mumbling some other word she didn't pay attention to, until she timidly touched his tongue with hers.

The kiss took a deeper turn because he angled his head in such a way that he could map out every inch of her mouth, and he was so overpowering that it was all she could do but meet him eagerly and just barely run her fingers along the tendons in his neck and over his jawline.

"Excuse me, sir?"

He broke apart from her with a gasp, panting and still pressed tightly to her, arms attempting to keep her still because Sakura suddenly wanted _more, _and she'd been reduced to a mewling little girl in his lap, pawing at his shoulders and brushing her lips up and along his neck, begging him to come back.

Deidara looked up at the man who had interrupted them. "Wha…what is it?"

"You haven't seen a couple with a bag come by here, have you?" The man was flushed. He'd obviously been observing them for a moment.

"I think someone ran past here…_ah,_ oh…" He shuddered when Sakura rolled her hips in toward him pleadingly. "They went south, yeah."

The man nodded. "Thank you."

Then he was gone and Deidara was _back _with some sort of growl and just about to press his wonderful mouth against hers again when a foghorn sounded off in the distance.

Sakura stopped immediately and looked toward the harbor. "The boat."

Deidara copied her, hands still around her, cheeks still tinged a dusty red, heart still beating rapidly against Sakura's chest. "We have to go now." He looked back at Sakura.

And then the situation hit Sakura full-force, and she blushed darkly.

Deidara pulled away from her immediately and rubbed the back of his hand against his cheek, as if trying to rub away the redness. "Come on."

She stood, dusting off her legs and pants, smoothing back her hair. "Where's the bag?"

He pulled it from underneath the back of his shirt and slung it over his shoulder. "It's taken care of. Now let's go meet Kisame, yeah."

Top of Form

Bottom of Form


	10. J is for Jubilee

**Found**

**J is for Jubilee**

O O O

"So how many months along are you?"

And then Sakura wanted to punch this man, however nice he may have been.

Very, _very _badly.

"I'm not pregnant," she grit through her teeth, hand squeezing Deidara's to the point where he grunted and winced.

"But we're thinking about it, yeah," Deidara said, and the pain in his voice wasn't exactly well-hidden.

"Ah, I see," the man said, leading them to their respective cabin. "My apologies. But I'm sure that when you do have children, they'll be very beautiful."

Sakura scoffed, glaring sideways at Deidara, who was doing the same. "Have kids? With _him? _He'd probably eat his own offspring."

"Hey!" Deidara shouted, pulling his hand out of hers to point an accusing finger in her face. "_You're _the one going on about wanting to have my baby and staying with me forever and all this other…other romantic shit!"

Sakura laughed in disbelief. "Are you _kidding _me? Were you not able to comprehend that I was playing up the image?" She shook her head. "Hello? Why would I want to have _your _kid? If I had anything that ugly growing inside me I'd probably just save you the trouble and blow my_self _up!"

And then his hand—heavy and harder than she could remember—slapped across her face, leaving a searing pain in her skin and making her eyes water.

The actual force of the strike turned her head sideways, and when she turned back to face him, there was a surprised look in Deidara's visible eye. Something like regret?

Kisame was already stepping forward, a looming presence over her shoulder.

Oh, no. She'd been waiting far too long for this.

In one deft movement, she pulled her fist back and struck it across Deidara's jaw, forcing him backwards and into a wall. He caught his balance just fine, and she hadn't exerted enough force to be life-threatening, but _damn _had it felt good.

He held his whole chin in two hands, winced, and then made a noise that wasn't quite a grunt and wasn't quite a whimper. Somewhere in the middle, if Sakura had to make a guess.

"I think you broke it," he managed through a half open mouth, rubbing his face and turning up his brow. "You broke my jaw!"

The porter had miraculously disappeared, leaving the keys to their quarters in Kisame's hand.

"Well," Sakura sniffed, crossing her arms, "you shouldn't have slapped me!"

Deidara glared at her, unable to do much more than that, picking himself off of the wall. He winced when an apparent lance of pain shot through him.

Kisame led the way down the hall to their room. "You have to heal him," he said to Sakura, who just furrowed her brow and turned away.

"Yeah, I know. But he deserved it."

"And the child comment," Kisame continued sternly, and Sakura mused that he appeared to be in a bit of a bad mood, "was unnecessary." She pretended the light burn of shame in her cheeks was from anger.

The room was fairly large, but one thing stuck out immediately for Sakura: There were only two beds.

She immediately claimed the one nearest the window. "I call this one." She glared at Kisame, who was busy closing the door and locking it, and then at Deidara, who immediately rushed to the mirror hanging above a dresser to inspect the damage to his face. "And you two have to share the other one."

Kisame placed the keys on a hook on the wall, and then scratched some place near his temple. "I'm not sharing a bed with Deidara."

Deidara snorted where he stood at the dresser, pulling down his bottom lip and looking at his teeth and then proceeding to the same with his upper lip. "Not with Kisame," he managed the murmur, though carefully.

"If you can _talk," _Sakura hissed, "then you're obviously not in that much pain, are you?"

"Look," he cried, and visibly grimaced upon doing so, turning around and pointing to his teeth with the hand that _wasn't _pulling his lips away.

Sakura sighed angrily and stood, marching to him. She took his jaw in her hands as his fell away, and tried not to look at his expression. Because she adamantly _refused _to admit that he looked kind of cute—like a lost child—when he was confused.

"Just a malocclusion," she muttered to herself, tilting his head up a little bit.

"Mollusk-lesion?" he asked dubiously, lifting his arms only slightly so that his hands hovered over her shoulders.

"When I hit you," she explained, guiding him over to sit on the bed nearest them and farthest from the porthole, "the impact misaligned your teeth."

He made a noise that might have been utter horror.

"I need to examine it," she reasoned, keeping surprisingly calm. Then again, she did feel a mite bad.

He might have been on the verge of tears. Sakura didn't know because, once again, she refused to look up. "It hurts!"

"Stop talking and it won't hurt as bad!"

"Stop poking!"

"Deidara, _shut up. _Thank you. Now lift your tongue for me, if you can."

He did as asked, frowning and looking away.

"I'm going to take a shower," Kisame announced, heading for the bathroom.

Sakura looked back at him and nodded. "Okay. When you're done, I'll go ahead and check you over."

And then he was gone and Sakura was back to looking at the floor of Deidara's mouth, checking for bleeding or bruising and most definitely swelling.

"Some swelling and bruising, but that's normal." She felt out his jawbone, careful not to make him whine again, though she noticed that he visibly flinched. She pulled away and sighed. Such a pain. She wondered if it was even worth it now. "What would you prefer, Deidara? Being numbed or going under?"

He gave her a questioning, surprised look.

"I have to do one of those two," she said. "It's too painful otherwise."

He didn't answer.

"Okay. I'll put you under." She instructed him to swing his legs up onto the bed, relax, and try not to fight it.

He stared at her as she worked, chakra filling in through his pores, doing its job and making him drowsy. His mouth hung half open, and though his brow was still creased in pain, Sakura could see the sleep slowly making its way across his features.

She took this time to smile. "I can't believe you're not worried."

He blinked lazily at her, and she pushed back that long strip of blond carefully. She took off his scope, as well, setting it on the nightstand beside them.

"You know…I could kill you." Her words surprised even her. "Make your body so relaxed that it forgets to breathe."

His blue eyes stayed fixed on her, occasionally drooping or closing, every movement sluggish, until finally it seemed he stopped fighting it.

She frowned at him, suddenly feeling awfully tired, herself. "But I won't."

He tried to smile, but the immediate wince gave an indication of still-lingering pain. "Role-reversal," he managed to murmur, and then his entire body fell lax.

She watched the hard diagonal lines of his shoulders sink into the mattress, as well as his facial expression fall into one of content.

Wordlessly, listening only to the shower still running in the bathroom, she set up a cushion of chakra behind his jaw.

It had been ages since she'd ever done any major healing, and she'd enjoy this while she could. It wasn't that she took pleasure in people's pain or the actual healing itself, but she enjoyed the way her mind blanked when she healed. It was a sort of automatic thing, especially with something she'd done multiple times. And heaven knew she needed some time to just drift.

The "operation," if it could even be called that, took less time than Sakura expected, and she was checking over everything else on Deidara when Kisame finally emerged, dressed in one of the bathrobes they offered.

Sakura barely glanced at him. "Where're your clothes?"

He pointed a thumb behind him and sat on the opposite bed. "They're soaking in the tub. I don't think this boat offers facilities for that."

"After I heal Deidara, would you mind helping me undress him? We should probably wash _his _clothes, too."

She didn't look, but she sensed that he nodded and continued.

"This is a cruise ship," he said after a while.

Sakura nodded. "I figured as much." She healed a superficial cut on Deidara's ankle. "The accommodations are too nice to just be a passenger ship."

"The tickets say that it will dock at a port in northern Earth Country, stay for three days, and then begin the return trip."

This time she did look at him. "Is that your ultimate destination? Earth Country?"

He was silent for a moment, and she occupied herself by brushing Deidara's hair back, keeping it away from his face and newly healed jaw. She feared that if she turned around or stood to complete some other task, Kisame would stop talking altogether. She wanted more information. She wanted to learn everything she could, because despite him and Deidara being complete idiots sometimes, they were _intelligent _idiots, if that made any sense. She had to know them to be able to properly escape. And even though she was starting to warm up to them—_just a little bit, _and there was definitely still piles and piles of hatred in that "warm up to them" tidbit—she had no intentions of staying with them.

Hell, she didn't know why they'd kidnapped her in the first place. They _had _to have some sort of ulterior motive besides wanting a personal medic. That was for sure.

"No. Not mine," he finally admitted, and the telltale squeak of the mattress indicated that he'd lain back, probably with his hands behind his head. "I don't intend on staying long."

"Don't agree with Deidara's plans? Whatever they may be, anyway."

He snorted. "I don't think even _Deidara _agrees with his plans. They're faulty and ridiculous, and he knows it."

The mechanic movements of Sakura brushing aside Deidara's hair became a little more absent-minded, and they turned into something that was almost akin to comfort. Her fingers brushed through it, undoing tangles, smoothing it out, clearing any stray strands from his forehead. "What are his plans?"

"You're not being underhanded," Kisame said, a bit of amusement tingeing his tone. "I wouldn't be telling you this if I didn't want you to know; trust me on that one, little girl."

Sakura exhaled deeply through her nose, pouting. "Yeah, I know. So what are they? It's not like it would hurt if I knew."

"Probably not," he conceded. "Deidara planned to revive the Akatsuki."

"With who? You and him? That's ridiculous."

"_You, _as well," Kisame said, and this shocked Sakura into momentary stillness. "But Deidara's not a leader, and neither am I. And you'd never stay. You'd fight it and fight it until you eventually either escaped or we had to kill you."

She nodded. "True."

"He's not stupid. He knows his reasoning is ridiculous." He paused for a moment. "But he had some emotional attachment to the organization. I'm guessing because he didn't really have that many friends."

"So what…what happened to the Akatsuki?" She looked down at Deidara, then, watched him breathe, watched his lower lip twitch out of agitation at the fading numbness. "I mean…you know."

"You didn't hear about it?"

"No, not at all. But we…I mean…my country…" She fiddled with a strand of his hair nervously, twirling it around her finger. "My country was too preoccupied with the war to really look into it. You guys hadn't made an appearance in so long…" And it was so odd referring to the Akatsuki as "you guys," still so odd to be _speaking _to an ex-Akatsuki. She'd never thought it possible. Not in a thousand years.

"There weren't many of us left. Myself, Deidara, Tobi, Zetsu, Itachi, Leader, and that blue-haired one…"

But it only took the span of eight or nine years for Sakura to completely change her outlook on someone.

"Zetsu had eventually been able to locate Hidan, and he'd dug him up. It took him a year or so to fully recover and find all of his limbs. And even then he was missing some things."

It only took eight or nine years for her to accept that the bad guys were human—that the bad guys had emotions and underlying reasons for _becoming _bad.

"We'd found another of the jinchuuriki, though it wasn't easy. Took us another couple of years to collect it. And then we'd tried to extract it, and it just hadn't worked. There weren't enough of us left."

_Eight or nine years _for Sakura to think about an evil organization with anything other than disdain; eight or nine years for her to disassociate Deidara and Kisame and Itachi and all of the others that she hadn't seen yet—or maybe she had and just didn't know it—with those black cloaks with the red-stitched clouds that she'd always secretly thought were pretty.

He sighed. "Leader insisted, though. He was certain that the war would distract the countries long enough, but that we needed to get this done immediately. Well, it didn't work."

Eight or nine years for—

"It…it exploded," he said, as if still in disbelief. "Deidara knew it would explode, and he told Leader. But Leader didn't listen, so eventually Deidara figured that it was either his life or some organization that acted as a substitute for a friend. He tried to get everyone to leave, but no one would move." He laughed darkly—a bittersweet tone. "So he ran."

For—

"By the time I realized that Deidara was a demolitions expert and knew better than anyone when something was and wasn't going to explode, it was already too late," he continued nonchalantly. "The explosion was strong. It knocked the sandals off of my feet and Samehada from my back."

For her to not immediately think of death when the name "Akatsuki" was brought up. Sakura bit her bottom lip, her hand stilling where it lay shivering against Deidara's forehead. All those years just to…

"I was already a considerable distance away when it finally blew up, but I still thought I was going to die." He stopped to take a deep breath. "Samehada made a barrier of some sort and protected me until the blast subsided. And then it disintegrated right along with the barrier."

Just to acknowledge their place. And it wasn't that they were justified in her eyes…

"I _tried _to find survivors, but there was no one. The first person I found was Itachi. He'd been far enough away that he didn't sustain too much damage, but he didn't make it."

…but they were humans, too. And criminals. And maybe some of them were fathers. And she knew they had to have been lovers to someone at one time.

"And then I found Zetsu. Or what was left of him. Then blue-hair, a piece of Hidan's leg, and Leader."

She was so engrossed with Kisame's story that she didn't notice Deidara begin to speak.

"I found Tobi later," he said in a whisper-soft tone, eyes still closed, barely moving his mouth at all. "I found him. I—I _found _him…"

Sakura refused to look at him, closing here eyes, as well. He was groggy and disoriented and she couldn't stand the look on his face, criminal that he was.

"Found him…he was…he was found. And he was so happy," he moaned gently. "He was so happy that someone had found him, yeah. 'Thank you, Deidara, you found me. Thank you, Deidara, for being the last person that Tobi sees.'"

She felt her nose tingle and her eyes water and she pushed all of that back. No crying for the criminals. No mercy for those who have never given.

"He was half gone. I couldn't—his body was—there was barely anything left of him, and there was blood everywhere, and he was never even mad at me for not taking him with me. But he…he should have been."

She finally opened her eyes to look at him, surprised to find the two fine lines left in the wake of a few tears running down the sides of his face. He arched into the pillow, eyes still tightly closed, hands fisted against the blanket.

"I didn't _want _to find him," he said, despite the obvious pain of doing so. "I didn't _want _me to be the last person to see before he died. I didn't _want _to have to watch him jerk and throw up all that blood and have to take off his mask for him and see his face, _but there was nothing left of his face."_

"Deidara," Sakura soothed, quiet, so much so that she could barely hear herself over Deidara's deluded speech.

"You don't understand. There was nothing _there. _It was…he was…" He sat up straight then, bringing his fists to cover his face, drawing his knees up. "The mask broke and cut into his eyes and scraped off half of his nose, and how could he see me if he had no eyes, Sakura?"

"Deidara, stop it. You're going to hurt yourself."

He pulled his hands away to stare up at her, mouth set tight, his hair still all pushed back, and he looked more threatening without that piece of hair obscuring his left eye, somehow. "I _killed _him."

"Enough!" Sakura yelled, rushing to try and pin him down. "You're going to dislocate your jaw or re-break it! It hasn't had enough time to heal!"

Deidara fought back, though, and two arms came around her shoulders, pushing at Deidara at the same time she was. She stepped back and allowed Kisame to take over, moving to put her hands at the sides of Deidara's face again, numbing his mouth and jaw before he could think to speak anymore.

After a few moments he was sedated again, and Sakura released him in favor of stepping back against the wall, leaning near the porthole. She looked out it, watching the water move past. There was no land visible anywhere, and the sun had already set. There were no stars that she could see. Nothing was there to lighten her mood.

Kisame sat back on the opposite bunk, rubbing his hands over his face. "It's been years since that happened. Five years, actually."

"It looks like he's still subconsciously guilty about it." She sniffled. "Did he really kill him?"

"He put him out of his misery," Kisame said, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. "From the bits and pieces he's told me, Tobi was crushed by a big piece of the mechanism we used to extract jinchuuriki. He was alive for the time being, but—"

"—if he moved the piece off of Tobi, Tobi would die instantly, but the object pinning him kept him alive for a little longer," Sakura finished for him, still staring out the porthole.

"Right. Tobi was in so much pain that Deidara just decided to kill him and get it over with quickly."

"It was the right thing to do, though."

"But can't you understand where he's coming from?"

She could understand _exactly _where. Gai came into her mind, in the hospital back at Konoha, dying but still laughing, going on and on about youth and pretty little things that made _him _happy.

And then he was gone. Just like so many others.

She didn't know how she was able to connect Deidara's internal grief with her own, but she did, and she took a deep, shaky breath. "They won't come looking for me."

"No."

"They know I'm dead."

"We wouldn't have been able to kidnap you and keep you away if there wasn't a war."

She moved back to Deidara, needing something to keep her mind busy. She pulled the blankets out from under him and then around him, tucking it to him closely, numbing his jaw a little bit more just in case. He'd exercised it too much too soon.

And then she made her way slowly to the bed where Kisame sat, and he scooted over to the opposite side, allowing her room. She ignored the fact that it was a waterbed and pulled off her sandals, outer tunic that they forced her to wear in public, and slid in between the sheets, rolling onto her side.

"So you're not making me sleep on the floor?" Kisame asked—rumbled—and Sakura shook her head.

"No. There's no need."

He nodded his assent and pulled the blankets over himself, as well, rubbing his head lazily for a moment before laying his head on the pillow and closing his eyes.

Silence ensued before Sakura, about to drop off to sleep, called out to Kisame gently.

He opened one eye.

"When are you leaving?"

He sighed deeply. "Soon."

"Please don't go." She heard his breathing stutter a little.

"Why?"

"I don't want to be alone." She moved closer to him, basking in the warmth, half-delirious from lack of sleep and sheer exhaustion.

"You're not."

"Not now."

"Why," he asked slowly, and she could hear the rumble in his chest as he spoke, "would my leaving affect you at all?"

"Because I _have _no one else."

"And back at Leaf?"

Her voice cracked. "They're dead."

"You have your blond friend. The kyuubi vessel."

She tapped her forehead against his collarbone. The robe he wore was soft. "You don't understand."

He laughed bitterly. "That sounds familiar."

"…But it's true."

"I'll stay," he finally allowed, "for as long as I can."

She wasn't satisfied, but she was also incredibly tired. She was drained. Everything was going fuzzy.

And the thought that an S-class criminal—an ex-Akatsuki member—a shark man—a killer—was comforting her never crossed her mind.


	11. K is for Kaboom

Found

**Found**

**K is for Kaboom**

**A/N: **So not Titanic.

O O O

Deidara could easily count on one hand all of the times that he'd woken up and been crying. Actually, he could easily and honestly say that those times did not exist, because it had never happened before.

Well, not before this.

He sat up, thumbing away the wet track of a few tears. And for the life of him he couldn't remember why he'd been crying in the first place. It was _especially _odd because a girl was in the same room. Well, a girl and Kisame. His pride was delicate, damn it.

A hand on his shoulder caught his attention, and he turned, only to see Sakura, holding a cup in the hand that wasn't on him. His jaw twitched painfully.

She smiled brightly. "Feeling better?"

He raised an eyebrow cautiously and shrugged. He didn't even want to _risk _speaking.

She showed him the cup, and he glanced inside. Pink slush.

"Kisame and I went to get you breakfast this morning. I explained to the cook that you were post-op, and he made this just for you."

He leaned over and sniffed it.

"Kisame's still checking out the boat. Oh—it's just a strawberry-kiwi slushy. It'll feel good going down, though, and you have to have a soft diet for a few days."

He took the drink from her gingerly and took a dainty sip. "…Not bad."

Her smile widened, if possible. "Good. I'll start getting around to checking your jaw."

And so she did: prodding here, poking there, pulling his lower lip down with her thumb to check his teeth. He sat patiently through it all, left hand growing numb from holding the cold cup, eyes following her movement. She really was thorough. No aspect of his jaw went unchecked, and she even examined his entire face for him, eventually moving to gently probe the area behind his ears with her fingertips for missed damage.

When all of that was done, she allowed him another sip and then rested her hands firmly on either side of his jaw. That cool sensation was back again, then, ebbing away the pinpricks of pain that were starting to surface. He set the cup down on the nightstand.

As he watched her he thought, because it wasn't often that he was forced to close his mouth and not say a word. Deidara didn't like introspection; Deidara liked to talk. He gained information, experience, and many more things from speaking. But then…he supposed that in the same respect, he also missed out on little details, as well.

Such as when she'd clung to him directly after the kiss not too long ago, nose against his neck, lips brushing over the tendons there, her hands a distracting presence across his chest. So maybe she'd wanted more. Maybe she'd wanted him to…do it again.

His gaze flicked automatically to _her _lips, casually together, relaxed. Unsuspecting.

Well. He couldn't talk; that was a given. And he couldn't very well express his thoughts any other way than through action.

With not much more than a glancing thought as to how she'd react, he leaned forward and pressed his lips to hers. It was light. Nothing intense. After all, he was still recovering.

The chakra filtering through him stuttered slightly, giving him the chills and making him roll his shoulders in, and he made a strangled noise in his throat that could have been a groan.

Her fingers slipped behind his head, threading into his hair, and he realized—briefly, for he was a bit distracted at the moment—that his hair was down and his bangs pushed out of the way.

She muttered his name and pulled back, eyes averted to some undeterminable point on his arm. She continued checking him, even moving so far as to check the beating of his heart, and he watched her the whole time, slightly entranced, slightly fuzzy from just waking up.

Maybe _that's _why he was acting so weird?

She finished and looked up at him, face open and unguarded, and a spark of _something _made Deidara's gut _ache. _Because he suddenly saw what Sasori saw in her, and he suddenly wanted to finish up what Sasori had probably hoped to begin.

"Can I ask you a question, yeah?" he asked carefully, eyes following her every movement, so very, _very _thankful that it didn't pain him to talk any longer.

She scoffed. "Since when are you so polite?" She waved a hand. "Ask away."

"Can I mold you?" The second it was out of his mouth, Deidara realized how it might be misconstrued, and scrambled for an explanation. "I mean—I mean clay. Sculpting and, you know, well, _molding, _yeah."

She stared at him like another mouth had just sprouted from his chest and waved its tongue at her.

And he couldn't blame her, really. In fact, he didn't think she'd ever seen him create any art besides the bird at all. But things had been so hectic, and he'd been busy, and his muse was just being _non-existent_ lately, so…well, there was nothing he could do about it.

She sighed. "Don't joke around like that. It's not funny."

He furrowed his brow. "What makes you think I'm joking, yeah?"

She rubbed her temples. "You don't even have any clay."

He huffed and reached into his pants pocket, pulling out a small pouch. "I have just enough for a miniature bust."

She seemed to contemplate it for a moment, for she stared at him intently, biting her lower lip. Finally, after what seemed like forever, she sighed. "Fine."

That thing in his stomach lurched happily again, and he all but jumped out of the bed. "Okay! Okay." He took her by the shoulders, guiding her to the opposite bed. "Just sit there, yeah."

"How long will this take?"

"Not long," he reassured, sitting himself down directly below her on the floor, his forehead almost touching her knees. "You have all day, anyway."

She folded her arms.

He produced a lump of clay from his pouch and began to mold it into the beginning shape of what would soon be Sakura, that spark in his gut ebbing into something a little more sated as he worked. It had been far too long since he'd been inspired to create anything just for the sheer fun of it, and his mediocre destruction of that city was proof of this.

He wasn't really able to put a thumb on his train of thought any more as he got a little more into his creation, only occasionally glancing up at Sakura so that he could see the particular shape of something. The art was only in its earliest stages, so it barely resembled anything more than the curves of a head, shoulders, and breasts.

"You know," Sakura began after a moment, scratching at her ankle so that he was forced to lean back a little bit, "I wouldn't mind if you made me a little more…_voluptuous."_

He peered up at her from under a few stray strands of hair that had fallen around his eyes. "Do you _want _me to, yeah?"

A pale pink blush dusted the edges of her cheeks. "Well—I mean—no, only if _you _want to, I mean…"

He bit the inside of his cheek and turned back to his work. "Honestly, I think you're fine the way you are." He hadn't really meant it to be a compliment; it was more of an observation that Deidara made. Any larger and her breasts would be overbearing, any smaller and they'd be far too small.

And that wasn't to say that he'd developed some sort of idea of the perfect woman or anything. He'd never really had time to daydream about fantasy women and the perfect wife through his travels. He'd been far too preoccupied with his art and the pursuit of a _career _with said art.

Needless to say, he hadn't found one that really let him do anything he damn well pleased, but… Well, the Akatsuki had been close enough. Especially since he'd been wandering around doing odd jobs here and there before they came along.

She was still flushed when he looked up again to see the exact slope of her shoulders, staring at the clay in his hands.

A tongue darted out from his left hand to lick some clay to one spot.

Her blush darkened, and he took note of this. She'd never been this embarrassed before. Just…mad.

He huffed softly to himself and used his thumbs to smooth out her clay shoulders, leaving indents for the fabric of her shirt.

Actually…

"Do you want to be naked?"

Her eyes widened. "What?"

"In the bust, I mean. Do you want to have a shirt on, or no?"

She furrowed her brow.

"Nothing's going to show, yeah," he sighed. "Just your cleavage."

She snorted. _"What _cleavage?"

Another glance up at her. "You have cleavage. It's just not the kind where your boobs are smashed together, yeah. It's, uh…" He struggled for the right phrasing. "It's nice."

She stared at him for a moment as though she were contemplating whether she wanted to uppercut him straight into the ceiling or just brush it off.

Fortunately for Deidara and his yet-to-be-finished creation, she did the latter, turning her head to the side and crossing her legs.

"Naked it is," he muttered to himself, and even though he was _sure _that she heard him, she said nothing.

He was able to get out most of her facial features by the time she had something else to say. Or ask, rather.

"Did you do this in the Akatsuki?" Her voice was soft. Sympathetic, if he had to take a wild guess.

He shrugged and used his pinky finger to carefully shape her nose. "Sometimes. I only did it with certain members, though."

"How come?"

"Some of them didn't like me to, yeah. And some just didn't appeal to me."

"So…who did you make busts of?"

He bit his cheek again. "I made a bunch of Sasori, yeah."

He heard her shift uncomfortable. "I…I see."

He stopped sculpting to glance up at her again, the replication of Sakura cupped gently in his hands. "What?"

She refused to lock eyes with him; this he could _blatantly _see. "Sasori was…your partner?"

He nodded. "Yes? And?"

"Ah…" She opened her mouth to say something more, but it closed it again, shaking her head. "Nothing."

He sighed and went back to work. "You think I'm holding Sasori's death against you or something?"

"Y…yeah."

His lips twitched into a smirk. _"Obviously _I do, yeah."

She shifted again.

"But this isn't some grudge I'm going to take out on you." He waved a hand dismissively—quickly—for he was anxious to finish the bust. It was starting to look exactly perfect. "I'm over it, yeah."

"I…oh. Okay."

And then there was more silence that Deidara was grateful for. He liked to work in quiet, ironically enough. Creations made in a hush that ended in an explosion.

He was done sooner than he expected, and he held it up for Sakura to see.

She took it from him carefully, a small smile falling across her lips. She passed it between her two hands, face lit and absolutely enraptured with the little thing.

Deidara felt overwhelmingly proud. "Like it, yeah?"

Her smile spread until there was nothing but teeth and bright green eyes and slightly red cheeks. "It's so cute!"

He rubbed the back of his cheek with his hand, spreading some clay to his face. Time to wash up. "You should probably get rid of it."

Her smile broke. "What? No, why? I don't want to get rid of it."

He made a move to take it from her, but she pulled away. He frowned. "Okay, really, give it back."

"No! I don't want you to trash it! Maybe _you _don't like it, but _I _do!"

"It's not that I don't like it—" He made another grab, but she moved it from his grasp. He stood and leaned over her, knees resting against the side of the bed. "You're going to get hurt, yeah!"

She scoffed. "By who? You?"

"No, by—_shit!" _He crawled over her, only half aware that his hips were quite literally pressed against hers, and batted it out of her hands. It rolled off the bed, across the floor, hit the opposite floorboard, and exploded with a small amount of clay shrapnel.

Sakura watched it, head turned at an extreme angle to be able to see. "Oh…it's…"

"My clay explodes, yeah," he deadpanned, glaring down at her. "And you apparently _forgot _this little fact."

She turned back to look up at him, folding her arms across her chest. "Can't you control it?"

"This one was sort of timed," he said, staring at the remnants of the bust. "Right after I finished, I set it to explode."

"_Why?"_

He shrugged. "Because that's what I do."

She stared up at him for a while after that, and her expression eventually softened to one that was a little less frustrated. He couldn't identify it exactly.

She unfolded her arms gently so that she could rest her hands on his biceps, clay rubbing off from her palms to stain the sleeves of his shirt. She started up some rhythm she probably didn't even know she was doing, fingers pressing into the inside of his elbow, her thumbs smoothing over a tendon in his forearm.

He swallowed thickly, following the movement of her gaze from a point on his chest to his lips. A thin strand of his hair fell over his shoulder to brush against her collarbone. "Sa—" he began quietly, but she cut him off.

"Deidara?"

"Huh?"

She flicked her stare from his lips up to his eyes, eyelashes fluttering prettily. And Deidara silently wondered if the recovery process had anything to do with him describing _anything _as pretty.

"Why…did you kidnap me?" she asked, and there was no malice in her tone. No killing intent; no ill will toward him that he could detect, and he found himself slightly at a loss for words.

"I…I needed a medic-nin, yeah," he said, and it sounded lame even to him.

Her fingers dipped down to his wrists, barely ghosting over the top of his hand.

He clenched the sheets under them, bits and pieces of memory coming back to him. Her reaction to the mouths on his palms, the heat, the complete and utter blind brevity of an act such as hers…

"Why," he asked, leaning forward only enough so that more blond hair fell over him, different lengths pooling over her sternum and hovering above her, "did you sit next to me that day?"

She held his hands firmly where they were, thumbs pressing down into the top of them to keep them in place, and arched up, looking hesitant as to what she wanted to do. "I was scared," she whispered.

He murmured a low, "Then why didn't you run?"

Her answer was the demanding presence of her lips on his, barely touching, feather-soft, tickling but not nearly enough to satisfy.

He slipped his hands out from under hers and behind her head, rolling so that he lay on his side, brushing his thumbs over the tops of her ears. The waterbed made a splashing sound that had him inwardly laughing at, but the situation was just too perfect for him to ruin by letting out even a huff of mirth.

She moved so that she could easily drape an arm across his chest to steady her on the other side of him, laying half over him. He remembered the kiss in the outskirts of the harbor, then, and he desperately tried to recreate it, running his tongue under the curve of her upper lip and then her lower until she _finally _met him touch to touch, stroke to stroke.

He swapped positions again, tugging on her arms until she relented and settled beneath him, and he pressed his thigh between her legs quite innocently. Really, he was only trying to get comfortable, but she made a muffled noise and pulled back a bit.

"Deidara, what if—"

"Kisame," he started, already knowing what she was going to say, "will not care. Kisame is only after his own ends, yeah. He doesn't give a damn about what you and I do or don't do."

"I wasn't going to…I mean…that, too, but…"

He stared at her obstinately. The familiar fringe of bangs had long since fallen to cover his left eye.

"But what if this turns into something it's not supposed to be?"

He groaned and let his forehead fall to rest against her collarbone. "What are you _talking _about?"

Her hands came up to smooth over the muscles of his back and then down his sides, counting ribs, it seemed, counting heartbeats, counting the breaths he took and how each was more of a struggle than the last. "I still hate you."

He rolled his eyes. _"Apparently."_

There was a shuffle of movement, and when he pulled away enough to be able to look at her, he was mildly surprised to see tears.

She sniffled. "I thought you wanted to kill me?" she said, and there was that spark back in her green eyes. She was getting angry again. Or maybe she was just sad.

Oh, fuck it. Deidara _gave up. _"What's wrong?"

She wiped at her eyes with the back of her hand. "I'm just confused," she snapped, half angry and half sad—some combination of the two that made Deidara grimace.

"What," he started slowly, gritting his teeth, "exactly is it that you're confused about?"

"_You!" _she shouted, sitting up to grab his shirt by the collar and sneer in his face. "You! It's you! One minute you can't stand me and can't _wait _to kill me, and the next you can't keep your hands off of me!" She shook him a little bit, more tears brimming around her lower lids, brows drawn together. "Which is it, Deidara? You think I don't know that something's happening between us! So what? Do you want me to leave or do you want me to stay?"

"I—I—you _can't _leave, anyway!" he said, expertly dodging the question. Yes, he knew he was just skirting around the subject. Yes, he was doing this on purpose. No, he didn't fully understand the situation. "You're a captive!"

She set her jaw angrily and rocked hard against him, grinding, pressing her hips tight to his and then rolling upward, and the friction made his now-persistent erection quite a bit more distracting than it was. He muffled his own groan and put one of his hands on the dip of her back, urging her to do it again, as his other steadied him on that ridiculous waterbed.

Her mouth was on his neck, moving up toward his jaw, and he tilted his head to give her better access, very much aware that he was once more panting.

"You are an indecisive bastard," she said against him, her breath fluttering over his skin and giving him delicious chills up and down the length of his spine, "and surprisingly easy to psychoanalyze."

He groaned for a completely different reason. No thinking of Kisame when being seduced by your captive, he had to remind himself. "Don't remind me."

"And you can't choose," she said, punctuating each word with the gentle movement of her fingers underneath his shirt and down his abdomen, playing with the waistband of his pants, "between _this," _–another roll of her hips into him, and he dearly, dearly hoped that he had the self-control to even _last— _"and just not having it."

"I _can _choose," he rebuked, pushing her tight against the bed and pushing her shirt up so that he could unclasp her bra. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been so brazen with _any _woman, let alone one that could and had demonstrated the latent ability to ensure the lack of children in his future.

With a knowing smirk, he shifted her medic skirt and shorts and the pants over it—he had no clue why she still wore her old outfit, anyway, when she was forced to wear civvies over that—to just below her hips. "It's not that I _can't _choose, yeah." He hooked his thumbs under her panties and tugged. "It's just that I don't want to."

"I'd break your jaw again if you didn't look so appealing right now."

A string of tension in his gut tightened, and he didn't stop himself from groaning this time. "You're not going to run away again afterwards, are you?"

"Nowhere to go," she said on a sigh.

He pulled his own shirt over his head, tossed it aside, and just went he moved to press the mouth on his hand to her breast and effectively render her a panting, mewling pile beneath him, the door cracked open.

If it was Kisame, Deidara was going to fucking _kill _him.

The back end of said person entered first, followed by them pulling in a cart of cleaning supplies.

"Oh, _no," _Deidara whined, refraining from just hauling her over his shoulder and carrying her into the bathroom to continue. _"Damn _it!"

Sakura gave an agitated sigh and pulled her clothes back together, slinking out from underneath her and dismissing the cleaning woman.

She locked the door and turned back around, and Deidara stared at her hopefully.

She stared back. "What?"

"_What? _What do you mean? Are we going to—I mean—you can't just—"

She bit her lower lip. "I'm not really…in the mood any more." She looked down at her hands, dirtied with clay. "And I need to take a shower anyway."

He made it into the bathroom before her, muttering something about priority under his breath.


	12. L is for Leonine

Found

**Found**

**L is for Leonine**

O O O

In spite of the circumstances, Sakura's rest had been anything but, well, _restful. _If she had any dreams, she didn't remember them. The only thing she could recall about the day and night before was that she'd all but ditched Kisame at the concession stand, almost slept with her kidnapper, was interrupted by the foreign cleaning lady, and then proceeded with avoiding Deidara until Kisame came in with food. And then after Kisame had made his grand entrance—and she knew that he sensed _something _was wrong, because he was a seasoned shinobi, damn it—they ate and slept.

Unfortunately, through much complaining on Kisame's end about having to share a bed with the girl once and how he didn't want to have to suffer through it again when he absolutely didn't have to, it had been established that Sakura should sleep with Deidara. Not in the sexual sense, of course. Though Sakura had been pleasantly surprised that he hadn't tried anything funny under the blankets. He'd simply bid her goodnight in a grunt and rolled over.

But now…well, now was decidedly different. Sakura had a habit of waking up slowly, and this morning was no exception. When she opened her eyes, she immediately noticed two things. One: Deidara was sitting up with something in his lap, and two: He looked absolutely delicious in just that tank-and-mesh combo that pathetically failed as an excuse for an undershirt. Not that she was about to say this aloud, mind. Hell, she could barely summon up the lack of shame to say it to _herself._

She was able to place a less obscure noun on the object in his lap, and this noun was "sketchpad." She didn't know much about this man, granted, but she knew enough to know that she'd _thought _he'd stayed exclusive to clay and other moldable materials. But here he was, sitting beside her on the bed, sketching away on this pad of paper, complimentary pen making small scratching noises as he worked.

He glanced over at her and she took up the façade of sleep once more. When she knew that he'd turned away, she watched him again, slightly amused at the facial expressions he made.

And so this was how the situation stayed for a while: him glancing at her every so often as she pretended to still be asleep and her watching him when he took his eyes off of her. She barely noticed that he'd tied back all of his hair, possibly to keep it out of the way as he sat hunched over his drawing.

He apparently finished quite some time later, and he tucked the sketchpad securely under his pillow. And then he pulled out the tie in his hair, slipping the band on his wrist, slid himself back under the blankets, and curled up right beside her.

Sakura was, to say the least, somewhat befuddled. She sat up on her elbows, staring down at him.

He noticed the swift movement and then significant lack thereof shortly after, so he opened one eye to stare up at her. "What?"

She furrowed her brow. "What…were you doing just now?"

He pouted. And she could…she could _swear _he was blushing or something, but it might just have been a trick of the light. The light which was incredibly dim, now that she thought about it.

"I'm out of clay," he muttered grumpily, closing his one eye again. "And I felt like doing something, yeah."

She lowered herself quietly down to the mattress, arms stretched underneath her pillow as she stared at him. "What were you drawing?" she asked just as quietly.

Both of his eyes opened this time. "You."

Something in Sakura's heart danced for just a moment before it withered and fell to drop into her stomach. It was a sort of mix of sweetness and creepiness. She wasn't quite sure she could differentiate at the moment. "Why?"

"I just felt like it."

_That _wasn't very informative. "But why did you feel like it?"

"Because…I don't know! I just woke up to go get some water, and when I came back I saw you asleep, and I felt like I had to, yeah. So can we drop it?"

She shrugged and rolled over, where she came face to face with the alarm clock on the nightstand. Five forty-six in the morning. One quick glance told her that Kisame was still sleeping soundly, so she attempted to follow his example.

As her mind clouded with drowsiness, she heard Deidara strike up conversation softly over her shoulder.

"Kisame…he…told me that he was leaving," he said under his breath.

"Mm," Sakura said, only half aware of anything that was going on.

"And he told me what you said to him, yeah," he said even quieter.

Sakura replied with another noise that told him she was paying attention.

"Even if Kisame leaves," he said, slowly, carefully, and Sakura fought to stay awake and listen. She really didn't want to be rude. "And even if you eventually find out that all of your friends are dead or something…"

She almost ignored his last comment.

"Even if you _do _end up alone because of the war or for…for whatever reason, you have to know…" He paused and took this time to shift closer to her, placing one of his hands on her upper arm. "You can't leave _me."_

She was asleep before she could figure out if he'd meant that to be foreboding or comforting.

O O O

For how calm Sakura had felt when she'd fallen asleep for the second time, waking up was the exact inverse.

If "falling asleep" and "waking up" were two variables, Sakura deduced, then adding them together would essentially cause them to negate each other. If she multiplied them, the boat would probably explode. If she divided one by the other, a black hole would rip open somewhere in the universe and suck everything in, turning it inside-out and then spitting it in some alternate dimension.

_Then, _Sakura almost screamed, and _only _then would she be able to describe how incredibly fucking annoying this alarm clock beside her ear was. She was about to reach over and pull the cord straight out of the damn wall, but an arm passed over her, pinning her to the bed momentarily, to grope around on the device before finally finding the "off" button.

She glanced at Deidara out of the corner of her eye as he retracted the arm in favor of rubbing agitatedly at his eyes. It was almost surreal, in a way, because who knew she'd be waking up beside an S-Class criminal? And hell, who knew she'd be so _nonchalant _about it? It was almost like everything was as it should be. Both were slowly rousing from their sleep, shifting under the blankets, bare feet absently brushing against each other.

She sat up and folded the blanket over her lap, groaning softly. When she looked at him again, he was yawning and stretching, hands and fingers interlocked as his arms extended above his head, face contorted into a half grimace for a moment before it all fell away and he sighed.

From what she could see, Kisame was already gone, so she acted upon a sudden burst of affection and draped herself across his lap, looking up at him when he started.

He blinked. "W—what?" he asked, voice still raspy from sleep.

She thought it was undeniably cute.

She shrugged lazily. "I don't feel like waking up yet. It's only nine."

He kept staring at her for a moment, whole body tense, before making a noise that wasn't quite a questioning groan and wasn't quite a huff. A bit of both, actually.

She snuggled into his lap. Warm, solid, tangible when she needed it most.

He made another noise. "Uh…" he began, going a little more rigid.

She sighed, stretched out over him like a cat, and then sat up with a snap.

He looked rather pale. "Did you feel that?"

"What?"

"Nothing."

She shrugged and got up, heading for the bathroom. "I think Kisame went up to get some food." She heard him climb out of bed. "We should go meet him and have breakfast."

He appeared behind her, setting one of the pouches usually at his hip on the counter. After a moment of digging through it, he produced a small brush.

She brushed her teeth with the disposable toothbrush that the boat offered as well as the small tube of toothpaste, watching him in the mirror's reflection. His hair was so _long. _Taking care of it must have been a task and a half.

He struggled through a particularly nasty knot before brushing through the rest of it calmly, smoothing it down, and then taking the hair tie from his wrist to tie it up in his trademark half ponytail. He pulled his scope out of the bag, stared at it, and then replaced it.

Sakura rinsed her mouth and turned off the sink, drying her hands on her pants when she found she was too lazy to simply use a towel. "Can I use that?"

He blinked at her and then frowned. "My scope?"

She rolled her eyes. "No, your brush. I don't have one." She held up a hand. "I've been using my fingers."

He nodded and handed it to her.

"Do you _ever _clean this thing?" she admonished with a huff, pulling out thick mats of blond hair. There was a little bit of blue in the mass of gold, and she inwardly chuckled. Seems this was the community hairbrush.

She tossed the hair into the trashcan beneath the counter and started pulling the brush through her hair without another word, grimacing a few times when she caught it in a tangle. She moved aside to allow Deidara to have full reign over the sink.

He picked up the toothbrush she had used and waved it in her face. "I'm using your toothbrush."

"Deidara, that's disgusting."

He scoffed and wetted it, then squeezed some toothpaste onto it. "Oh, please. It is _not _disgusting, yeah."

"That's just gross," she repeated, shaking her head. "It's one thing to just use someone's brush, but someone's _toothbrush?"_

He waved a dismissive hand. "As if your tongue hasn't been in my mouth before." He paused for a moment before adding, "And vice-versa," slyly. And then he stuck the toothbrush obstinately in his mouth and started brushing.

It took her a while to be satisfied with how her hair looked. It turned out a bit frizzy because of all the knots she'd torn out, but it otherwise looked fine. She cleaned her hair out of the brush—almost laughing out loud at the pieces of blond, blue, and pink hair left behind in the process—and then shoved it back into his bag.

He rinsed his mouth quite unceremoniously, and just when Sakura was about to once more scold him for being a dirty little man, he outstretched his left hand and starting brushing the teeth on the mouth there.

For a moment that startled even _herself, _Sakura was absolutely stunned into silence. It made sense, of course, that he would need to brush all three sets of teeth, but…but…

Hell, it was such an _oddity. _Deidara himself was an oddity—a freak of nature, though she'd never say this aloud. It was rude, not to mention dangerous. Who knew how he'd react?

That night in Sakanamura filled her thoughts, and the reality of the situation crashed over her. It was a bucket of ice-cold water, dousing what had once been the smoldering remains of desire, turning the ashes into a sticky, sloppy mud that made her sick.

It was—she had—_he _had—with those _mouths…_

She pressed the back of her hand to her mouth to hide the grim twist of her lips and kept watching him. It was second nature to him. How long had he had that bloodline limit, anyway?

He caught her stare, apparently, or maybe the thick silence alerted him, because he scoffed and scowled. "What?"

She blinked up to look at him and then instantly looked away. "Nothing."

He rinsed the first hand and started in on the next.

"So, uh," Sakura started, feeling awkward. "How long have you had those?"

He shrugged. "For as long as I can remember. It's been a while." He finished up with the second hand and then rinsed the toothbrush, handed it back to her, and dried his hands on the towel next to the sink.

Something apparently caught his eye, because he smiled widely and picked up a small plastic baggy. "A _razor!_ _Finally!"_

She quirked an eyebrow and pushed herself up to sit on the sink, watching him with interest. "You shave?"

He rolled his eyes. "If I didn't, I'd have a beard." He wetted the razor. "Or at least some major five o'clock shadow, yeah."

"But…" She cocked her head to the side, inspecting him as he pulled a small packet of shaving cream from the rack that held each disposable toiletry. "But you don't carry a razor with you and neither does Kisame. Come to think of it, you're both relatively clean-shaven."

"Not right now."

"Really?"

He nodded. "I can't shave with a kunai for shit. Kisame's pretty good at it, though."

She blinked.

He sighed in exasperation and took her hand with his free one, pressing her fingers to the line of his jaw. He forced her fingers to slide downward and then up, and Sakura pulled away.

"That's…ow."

"It's just stubble." He splashed some warm water on his face and lathered the shaving cream on. "Anyway, Kisame and I use kunai most of the time. But it sucks. You cut yourself a lot, yeah." He started with a clean line down his cheek.

She frowned. "Nobody ever taught us that at the academy."

"They only taught the males at _my _academy," he said, tilting his head up to get an area under his chin. "Which leads me to believe that they did the same at yours?"

She nodded, suddenly awfully glad that she'd found the other disposable razor just the night before. She rubbed an exposed area of her ankle thoughtfully.

He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. "I'm hoping you don't need to use this razor, 'cause it's going to be dull by the time I'm done, yeah. It's cheap."

She flushed and grimaced. "Of course not! I already found one earlier."

He finished shaving in silence, apparently unfazed by the way she stared at him ceaselessly. There was a certain pattern to his movements: up, up, up, rinse the razor and then bang it against the counter softly, up, up, dab at a section with a towel. It reminded her briefly of those fleeting memories she had of her father. He hadn't been around too incredibly long, but he still had those little consistencies that stuck out at her. He used to bang his razor against the counter, as well, and as a little girl, that used to be her alarm clock. It was right on time for the academy, too.

She kicked her legs gently—aimlessly. "Do you have family?"

He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye.

"Alive," she amended, shrugging.

He was quiet for a moment. Then: "No. They died when I was young." He rinsed the razor again before asking, "You?"

She looked down at her knees. "No. I wasn't young, though."

"Was it recently, yeah?"

She shook her head. "My dad died when I was little. My mom died a few years back." She picked at a stray fuzzy clinging to her—now clean, thanks to Kisame's ingenious work of finding a washer and dryer the other night—civvies. "She died of…some disease. They couldn't figure out what it was."

"Is that why you became a medic-nin?"

She sighed. "No. I was a medic-nin even before my mom passed away. I was gone…on a long, long mission when she died. I must have been away for weeks. They never told me she was sick while I was away."

He was finally done when she decided to glance up at him again, cleaning the razor, setting it in his bag for use later on down the road, and then rinsing his face. He patted it dry and then huffed gently. "I'm hungry."

She smiled inwardly and was brought back to the first time they'd met in that marsh. It seemed so far away, now, but it had only been…what? A month? Four or five weeks, at the most? And even from the first time she'd spoken with him, she'd _liked _him. His personality was so friendly, even though he seemed off-handed. He seemed to be able to make someone feel better without even making it apparent that he was doing so.

Just like now, she figured, as he changed the subject. And for this she was grateful.

He zipped his bag on the counter and patted it, then turned to Sakura dutifully. "I'm going to go out and get some food, yeah. Then I'll meet Kisame."

"I'll come with you." She hopped off the counter and followed him out the door, grabbing the key on the way out.

Top of Form

Bottom of Form


	13. M is for Mars

Found

**Found**

**M is for Mars**

O O O

And there they were, locked inside a broom closet on some dreadful ship, stumbling blindly over the tattered ends of mops and empty buckets, scrambling for a solid hold on anything readily available. They found their footing at opposite ends—not that it mattered, anyway, because there was only about four or five feet of room in the little closet, anyway—panting and gasping, trying desperately to catch their breath.

Sakura didn't know who'd moved first—she wasn't paying much attention, in all honesty—but suddenly there was a flurry of motion and one was pinned under the other, back pressed painfully into a shelf, hands gripping said shelf and knocking over a few cleaning supplies in the process.

And then his lips were on hers, eyes still unaccustomed to the dark and forcing him to feel his way around her body. Not that he probably minded, Sakura mused, rolling her eyes.

The kiss became something more: a bit more heated, a bit more desperate, a lot more frenzied. Soon hands were on hips, legs were wrapping around middles, and one of them was moaning, because the tension was apparently just killing the both of them. Sakura didn't think she'd ever seen anything so raunchy in her life. They were in a _broom closet, _for God's sake. Someone was bound to catch them, and then what would they do? Pretend she'd dropped a contact lens?

She almost snorted in amusement as they pressed tightly against each other, his hips rocking into the cradle of her thighs at the same time that _she _arched, barely able to hold back little sounds of pleasure.

_He, _however, had plans of his own. "I've been waiting for this for so damn long."

"Me too," she said on a breathless whine.

"Do you know how long I've had to just be content with _fantasizing _about you?"

Sakura blushed.

He leaned closer and breathed, "Do you know how many times I've touched myself to you? How many times I've just wanted to drag you off and fuck you stupid?"

Sakura didn't know whether to be offended or amused.

She moaned. Loudly. "Oh—!"

"Are you watching _porn?"_

A squeak slipped past before Sakura could attempt to conceal it, and she fumbled with the remote, shutting off the TV and ending the moans and cries of the Broom Closet Couple with a dull "zap." "Deidara!"

His lips twisted into a devious smirk. "You _were _watching porn."

She flushed several pretty shades of pink. "I was _not! _It was just on TV and I started drifting off…!"

He shook his head disdainfully. "Such a terrible liar, yeah."

She stuttered over her words and then finally settled for throwing the remote control at his head. He dodged it expertly, of course, and she sneered at this.

He nodded his head toward the door. "Okay. Time to go."

"Oh, how _kind _of you," she hissed, taking his hand roughly in hers. "Now that you've stalled us long enough for you to wash the toothpaste stains on your shirt."

He mocked her quietly under his breath in a high-pitched tone, apparently trying to mimic hers, and she bumped him with her hip.

"Okay, so explain to me the situation?" she asked as he led her out the door and down the hallway, heading toward the elevator at the end. They passed by several doors on their way, and all in all, the hall was rather…empty.

"The same," he said, apparently calm again. "Nothing's changed, yeah."

He pressed the up button on the elevator when they approached it and waited patiently, pulling his hand from hers to tuck it in front of him, rocking on the balls of his feet.

Sakura did about the same thing, though she folded her arms behind her back, staring up at floor indicator with a blank expression.

The doors opened with a shrill ding and they stepped inside, squeezing between people and ending up at opposite ends.

She tried to act normal—really, she did, but it was almost _nerve-_wracking. Deidara had suddenly flared his chakra, and while he didn't have _near _the amount that Naruto—she tried not to wince at his mention—and Kisame had, he still had a fair amount. She glanced at him out of corner of her eye, wondering if he was trying to catch her attention.

He looked…well, like Deidara. Maybe a little less homicidal, though he still had the appearance of some mentally unstable freak.

Some lonely corner of her mind argued that he wasn't _really; _Deidara and Kisame were among the two sanest members of the Akatsuki, from what she could gather. Sure, Deidara had his whole deal with blowing things up and Kisame held grudges like there was no tomorrow, but—

She tensed unconsciously. There it was again, worse than last time. His chakra felt indistinctly like a small burst of static electricity: stunning for a second, but when it ebbed away into just a dull buzz, she wanted to do it again just to see if what she was feeling was painful or exciting. Especially when it mounted like that, hung suspended on some wonderful edge, and then _broke _over her, washing over her shoulders and down her spine, and he _had _to be doing it on purpose, the bastard.

She glanced over at him again, but he wasn't looking at her. Rather, he was staring at the elevator doors intensely, biting his bottom lip ever-so-slightly and almost, _almost _smiling. He was fidgeting, too. _Badly. _And the others were starting to notice, because a few heads turned toward him.

She groaned inwardly. The people around them were just normal citizens, sure, but she was certain that even _they _could feel the spiking of his chakra. And if they found out that they were ninja, questions would arise, and then they'd be forced to run.

And really, how far could they go in the middle of the ocean?

So she tried to edge over to him, slipping behind people, accidentally rubbing herself against their backs on many an occasion—she swore she'd kill Deidara for this later—in order to just _get _to him.

She shoved a man accidentally, and he scoffed at her. "What exactly is it that you're trying to do?"

She blinked at him, still pressed quite tightly to the wall by him, and then scowled. "I'm trying to get to my husband. I apologize."

Her "husband's" gaze immediately snapped to her, and he watched the exchange with one careful eye.

The elevator door opened to let people out, and more than half of them filed out into the hall. It was the theater hall, Sakura realized, and that was probably why there were so many people crammed into the elevator. A show was being put on.

The man who she had aggravated did not leave, however, though he stepped away from her and into the bit of empty space that appeared in front of him. She shuffled quickly to Deidara, who instantly took her hand in his. He interlocked her fingers this time—he usually never did that—and squeezed it tightly, still staring at the man who was, unfortunately, staring right back.

The roiling of his chakra had stopped, evening out into a steady, thick sort of manner, plastering to the walls of the small space, suffocating everything within reach. It folded around Sakura and her own chakra, which lay unused and meek in comparison to his. His chakra wasn't as bountiful as Naruto's, sure, but it damn well was heavier. Not painful or uncomfortable, just…odd.

She wondered why she was being so hypersensitive to his chakra and then realized it was because she was actually _studying _it. She stopped immediately, flashing her attention instead to the man, and her acute awareness of his signature drifted away slowly.

The man, apparently having nothing to say to any of this, turned away.

They endured the elevator ride with him for a few more seconds until the next floor came, and the rest of the riders stepped out into what Sakura decided were the passages to the main atrium of the ship. She was curious to see what it looked like and considered asking Deidara to go and see it, but when she tugged forward slightly to go out, Deidara tugged right back.

The doors closed, and she glanced at him.

"Kisame's not in there," he said sulkily.

She shrugged and fell back to stand beside him. The grip he had on her hand was firmer than she could ever remember. "I thought we could take the scenic route."

"We've been stalling for too long already, yeah."

"And whose fault is that?" she snapped, but then furrowed her brow when he did nothing but huff and stare blankly at the ceiling tiles.

She elbowed him gently. "What's wrong with you? No snippy retort?"

He huffed.

More silence.

Okay, something was _definitely _wrong. "Deidara?"

The elevator dinged, opening those wide, metal doors. He pulled her out with him, out into a hallway slightly larger than the rest. End tables decorated every corner, flower vases of what she assumed were fake flowers atop them. He seemed to know where he was going, at least.

They reached some main hall eventually. People congregated about casually, leaning against pillars or sitting on benches. All in all, the air was very…cheerful.

She tugged hard on Deidara's hand when he apparently figured out which way to go.

He frowned down at her and stopped, where she abruptly pulled him underneath the shaded shelter of a gaudy spiral staircase. She wasn't sure where it led; all she knew was that no one was using it. It might just have been decoration.

She had the sudden urge to pin him against the support beam by the collar—quite cliché, if she did say so herself—but held back, instead ripping her hand out from his for her to ball her fists and rest them on her hips. "What is your _problem?"_

He scoffed nastily, sneering. "I don't _have _a problem, yeah. What the hell is _yours?"_

Well, that was a little more of the Deidara she knew, though she felt more like she was berating a child rather than an adult that was supposed to be her husband. "You! You've been in a mood ever since the elevator. And what was that all about, anyway? What were you getting all excited for?"

"What are you talking about, 'excited'?"

She set her jaw and flared her chakra experimentally, just like he had done, and watched him blink and then furrow his brow. "I wasn't doing that."

"Yes you were," she snapped in a low whisper. "And you were doing it with enough force that the other people in the elevator could feel it."

He opened his mouth to speak, but she cut him off.

"And I _highly _doubt that they were ninja, Dei—_Makoto."_

He sighed and looked morosely up at the bottom of the staircase. "It's just a habit, then."

"Why? What were you doing that for?"

"I do it when…when I get inspiration for…something, yeah."

He was beating around the bush and it was _seriously _starting to annoy her. She threw her hands up in exasperation. _"What _inspiration? We were in a crowded elevator. How inspiring could that possibly be?"

"You didn't see it?" he asked on a gasp, looking at her with wide eyes, as if she must have been blind not to see what he had allegedly seen.

She shook her head and he grabbed her hands, bending his knees in such a way that he was eye-level with her.

"You didn't _feel _it? Those powerful doors, the small interior, the enclosed space…"

"I felt claustrophobic and a little nauseous, if that's what you mean," she answered cautiously, giving him a look that clearly asked if he was out of his damn mind.

The hands shifted so that he could interlock his fingers with hers again, and he sighed contentedly, practically purring in ecstasy. Whatever this feeling was had apparently been like catnip to Deidara, because he looked about ready to start rolling around on the ground or licking her fingertips. "It was _amazing. _I haven't felt it in so _long, _yeah."

She blinked at him. "So what was it?"

"A bang!" he whisper-yelled, pressing his forehead to hers, smiling widely. "It was so…so _intoxicating."_

"What the hell are you going _on _about?" she finally questioned, pulling her hands out of his.

He used his now free hands to push her hair back from her face, framing her utterly baffled visage with his thumbs. "It was the thrill of an explosion! Oh, if only I had more clay left." He pressed his lips to her left cheek quickly, making excited little noises as he did. "Can you imagine?"

"I can imagine that you're out of your fucking _mind, _Deidara, now—"

He pressed another kiss to someplace near her temple, this time, still making those noises. "It just came to me suddenly, and I couldn't stop thinking about it, yeah. What would an explosion look like from behind those doors? The walls repulsing outward, the muffled boom, the smoke filtering through those little cracks, the hissing and the sizzling of all the _destruction _contained inside that tiny, tiny room."

He was starting to scare her a bit. "Deidara—"

"And then it would erupt in _flames, _yeah." He rubbed against her, much like a cat would, Sakura realized with a bit of amusement, and lifted up her chin to breathe across her neck, whispering the rest of his description into her skin. "The fire would burn, burn, burn and turn everything to ashes from the _inside out." _His hands slipped from cupping her face to running down her neck, kneading into the tendons at the juncture of her neck and shoulders, and it felt really, _really _good. "Can you imagine?" he asked again—_breathed _against her—as she stuttered for a response. "Nothing but the doors and the skeleton of once was would remain."

She finally summed up enough presence of mind to push him away, shoving roughly at his chest.

He stepped back, steadying himself against the support beam of the staircase, and blinked.

"I thought it was because of the man," she whispered after a while, at a loss for words.

He shoulders slumped and he stared at the ground, his breathing still a bit heavy. "It…was. In a way?"

She kept quiet as a bid for him to continue.

"But I…wanted to explode the elevator before he snapped at you," he explained, shrinking down to his normal stature and keeping his eyes on the ground. When he had once seemed larger than Sakura and more powerful—she had even thought for a fleeting second that he could easily defeat her—he was now his old self again. Just Deidara. "When he talked to you, it brought me back into focus, I guess."

She bit her lip nervously. "Dei—"

A tap on her shoulder had her turning around, staring up—_way _up—into the face of what looked a bellhop. Or maybe a security guard. The epaulettes and various decorations on his uniform made his position on the ship too obscure.

"Miss?" he politely insisted, glancing once over at Deidara, who was staring at the man like he'd just threatened to run a stake through his heart. "Is everything alright?" he continued in a whisper.

Sakura, a bit surprised at the notion of a civilian thinking she needed to be rescued, exhibited quite the delayed reaction in which Deidara scoffed and the man began to push her behind him.

"N—no," she finally managed to bite out, shaking her head. "No, no, everything's fine. I'm sorry. My husband and I are just…having a little spat." She smoothed her hair back and smiled soothingly at him. "I'm sorry to bother you."

He straightened and waved a dismissive hand. "Alright, then." He bowed. "I apologize for the interruption."

He walked solemnly away, Deidara still staring a burning hole through his back. He watched the other man until he disappeared behind a door, and even then, he kept staring at where he had vanished to.

And then his face of stony concentration was broken with a wince and the telltale tightening of his jaw. "Ow."

Happy for the abrupt change in subject, Sakura motioned for him to bend down—she could probably reach him without having him bend, but it was easier this way—in order for her to inspect his newly healed jaw.

She cradled it in her hands, biting the inside of her cheek. "Swollen. You've been talking too much," she chided, trying her damnedest to forget what he'd just said—what he'd just done. Quite frankly, he'd acted like the ex-Akatsuki member that he was. She mentally berated herself for ever, _ever_ thinking or expecting any different of him.

He rubbed the bottom of his jaw, head turned away from her. "Can't you heal it?"

"Not here," she said, removing her hands and shaking her head. "I don't want to draw any unnecessary attention."

He scoffed. "A little late _now, _yeah."

"And whose fault is _that?"_

"You've really got to up the ante on your retorts. You've used that on me already, yeah."

She was rendered quite at a loss for what to say for several reasons all at once, the prevailing one being at how damn _quickly _his attitude had changed from euphoric, excited, and even a little bit delirious to his normal, snippy, witty, delightful, in some odd ways, amusing, entertaining, _infuriating…_

Well, she definitely liked his old self better, in any case. Or perhaps it was his new self? How had Deidara acted all those years back? She remembered seeing him when they'd rescued Gaara, there with his partner, Sasori, him just lounging on the Kazekage's body and Sasori staring coldly ahead. But she'd never heard anything from Deidara that day; Naruto and Kakashi had been the one's to go chasing after him, and she had stayed behind with Grandma Chiyo to fight Sasori.

She did, however, remember Naruto talking about Deidara in the aftermath. "A crazy bastard," he'd said through clenched teeth. "He played with Gaara's body like he was some kind of rag doll." And right then she had decided that she hated Deidara and the Akatsuki more than anything in the world.

Oh, how brash and shallow she had been. She wondered if Tsunade or perhaps Kakashi even took the time to study the reason for Akatsuki's actions besides the hunger for greater things: something quite a few people could identify with, albeit on an admittedly less extreme level.

She took Deidara by the hand and led him to the nearest empty hallway. His fingers curled around hers and they were _cold. _Cold hands. Something Ino had told her a long time ago—back when they were little girls with big delusions about boys and the world in general—made her want to laugh. "Hands that are cold mean he wants sex, Sakura. Keep that in mind," her friend's voice chided in her head.

He didn't say a word as he trailed beside her, though she attributed this to the new pain in his jaw. When they were sufficiently deep enough in the hallway, she turned him around and instructed him to sit on the floor against the wall.

He did so without complaints, and she knelt down between his outstretched legs. "You're too tall for me to reach properly," she explained on a mumble, immediately taking his jaw in her hands. He placed his hands on her hips, though whether this was just reflex or a very conscious move, Sakura couldn't tell. Nor did she _want _to. She was content with just ignoring it.

She couldn't ignore it, however, when his fingers brushed under her shirt to circle the bare skin there. "Stop it," she said, and he did.

The look on his face told her he was asking why, and she answered with a small flood of chakra, healing whatever he had pulled and injured in his newly repaired jaw. She didn't notice—or maybe she just didn't want to—that Deidara had been slowly but surely pulling her into him, closer to his chest, until she damn near was flush against him. And when she pulled away, signifying she was done, he _did _pull her flush against him, arms tightening around her lower waist as he buried his face into her stomach.

"What?" she asked, and she recoiled when she realized how…well…_callous _she'd sounded.

It didn't seem to affect him at all, though, because he just pressed into her a little deeper, turning his head to the side. "This is so stupid, yeah."

She purposely softened her voice, though she didn't know why. What was she doing, giving sympathy to the enemy? Placating him? "What is?"

"Whatever it is we're dancing around," he muttered in a flat tone. "It wasn't supposed to end up like it has."

"What wasn't?"

"The _capture _plan," he said, sounding a bit agitated. "My kidnapping you and Kisame playing along. It's not like it was the most well-thought-out plan in the world, but I didn't think that _this _would happen, either."

"What is '_this'?" _she asked, also agitated. Hell, he was talking in circles and he was holding her too tight and he was _Deidara _and _Akatsuki _and _crazy. _Something way, way, way back in the recesses of her mind asked what the difference between Sasuke's lust for vengeance and power and Deidara's hunger for appreciation and acceptance were.

There were lots of differences, she reasoned. Sasuke left with Orochimaru to become stronger to kill his brother, who had killed his entire _clan. _He wasn't being selfish. He wanted revenge, and it was absolutely justified. Deidara joined the Akatsuki because he wanted his art to be recognized.

…Right?

_Right? _

No.

No, he didn't.

She grimaced and pushed him away, climbing to her feet and dusting off her hands out of reflex. He watched her for a moment before doing the same, standing quietly beside her.

"We should—"

"—Find Kisame," he finished for her, nodding his head toward the end of the hallway. "Where was he when you left him?"

"Belladonna Buffet."

"…That's sickening."

"The name or the fact that he's probably not there anymore?"

Deidara sighed and folded his arms behind his head. "A little bit of both, yeah."

O O O

Delightfully according to plan, Kisame was found lounging—well, not really lounging; he looked more…"carefully relaxed" than anything—about at the Belladonna Buffet. His hands were in his lap, an ankle crossed over his knee, eyes half-lidded and glancing around the room.

People watching, then. Waiting for them? Calculating, maybe.

Or he could just have been thinking.

Sakura approached him first, ever excited to get away from being alone with Deidara, it seemed. She took a careful seat next to him, smiling and pushing some hair from her face. Ugly, ugly face that Deidara hated with every fiber of his being.

Especially when she put a hand on Kisame's knee and laughed something he couldn't understand.

Deidara shifted uncomfortably and crossed his arms, looking all parts the over-protective husband he was pretending to be. And if Kisame was the brother, why was he being so buddy-buddy with Sakura? Hell, their roles might as well have been reversed.

Kisame stood and offered Sakura an arm, which she took with a mock-bow.

Okay. Too far.

Deidara took Sakura's other arm. "What the hell do you think you're doing, _Kenji?"_

"Kenji" grinned charmingly. "Leading my _sister _to get something to eat, because her _husband _apparently couldn't handle this task on his own."

"We didn't have _time _to eat, yeah!" Deidara defended, huffing moodily. "We were too busy trying to get ready to leave the cabin!" And at this point, he tugged Kisame brusquely away from Sakura, pulling him away from earshot. Sakura, apparently taking the hint, wandered over to a counter and grabbed a plate, proceeding to pile it with various foodstuffs.

Kisame looked surprisingly like he was expecting such an outburst, and he folded his arms, too, leaning his head slightly to the left. He was agitated, but damn it, so was Deidara. He was tired of being on this confined boat and he was tired of dragging around a girl that was half a decade younger than him. He'd become a missing-nin to suit his own selfish needs—yes, he admitted it, joined the Akatsuki, _survived _the Akatsuki, seen countless people, friends and foe alike, die at the hands of both himself and others, and at twenty-nine and counting, he was ready to just sit down, smooth his hair out of his face, take off his scope, and live out the rest of his years in peace, punctuated with the occasional mass-scale explosion.

He flicked his head to get that thick strand of hair out of his face. When did his bangs start annoying him?

"Deidara," Kisame said, dropping the huffy stance. "Stop playing games."

"Games? What games?" he replied, staring up at the man. Six-foot-something, 200 pounds, and damn near forty years old. So Kisame had something on Deidara.

And then, of course, it hit Deidara. And he felt like an ass. Because really, how slow did he have to be to not realize it?

Kisame was old enough to be Sakura's _father. _Forty years old, and Sakura was…what? Twenty-four? Twenty-five at the most? And that wasn't saying that he couldn't or _didn't _have lewd or lascivious thoughts for his "wife," but hell, Kisame had years upon years of experience on the both of them.

And suddenly it became very clear to Deidara that if _anybody _deserved to kick up their feet and relax, it wasn't him, it was _Kisame. _

He pressed his fingers to his temples and sighed long and deep.

"I'm not here for the girl," Kisame continued, frowning a little bit. There was silence for a moment before he continued solemnly. "You know I'm not going with you two."

Deidara scuffed the floor with his shoes, scowling at nothing. "Yeah, I know."

More silence. "What are you going to do, then?"

"What, like I'm helpless without you or something?"

"What are you going to do with _Sakura?" _he clarified, and Deidara glanced at Sakura unconsciously. She was just finding a place to sit in the far corner of the room.

"I…don't know, yeah." And it was true. He _didn't _know what he wanted to do with her.

"And what were you going to do originally? Don't feed me that 'revive Akatsuki' sentiment, either, because you and I both know it's shit."

"What were _you _planning on doing with her, then?"

"I wasn't planning on doing anything," Kisame said, still calm and composed even though Deidara was near screaming. "I recognized you and just went along with whatever it was that you were doing. And from there I was going to stay with you until we could both figure out what it was we wanted to do with ourselves."

Deidara shook his head and motioned for the both of them to sit down at a nearby table. "What did you do in the time between the collapse of the Akatsuki and when you met back up with me, yeah?"

Kisame fiddled with a salt shaker. "I tried to find someone to fix Samehada, but I couldn't. And after that, I just kept searching for a place to live." He shrugged. "There's only so far you can go on being evil and underhanded. There has to be some point when you realize that you want to sit down and shut up."

Suddenly interested, Deidara glanced up at him, up into those odd grey eyes. "Did you find one?"

His impromptu partner and brother-in-law shrugged. "Yes and no. I contacted a friend of mine in some neutral territory just off the Land of Water. It's one of the larger islands, but it's nice." He shook his head. "Not like the villages and cities around here."

"Meaning?"

"It's caught up with the rest of the world. It just chooses to stay out of it. It's Kanagawa."

"Hmm…sounds nice." He deliberately averted his eyes from Kisame, looking instead where Sakura sat alone, eating her meal. She picked it to pieces with her delicate little fingers, and no matter how "delicate" said fingers seemed, Deidara knew the truth. He grimaced inwardly and instinctively pressed his legs together carefully.

Kisame, who had been watching him for a few seconds, cracked a wry smile.

Deidara looked back at him and frowned. "What?"

"You can't expect her to stay with you forever, can you?"

A thick cloud of dread settled over Deidara's insides, and his frown turned significantly darker. Sure, he _knew _that he wouldn't be able to keep her subdued forever, but that didn't mean that he wanted to think about it. Because when it came right down to it, he _couldn't _keep her around. She _might _last a couple years at the most, maybe five or six if he was lucky, but then she'd run. She'd go home, and she wouldn't come back. And then she'd tell her friends and her family—whatever was left of them, anyway—and they'd all run after him with pitchforks and torches in hand.

He sighed and lowered his head into the cradle of his arms. So it was either set her free as long as she kept her capture a secret or simply kill her.

His right hand twitched and then _ached. _It would be so, so easy, but Kisame—

"Don't kill her."

Deidara looked up. "What?"

"Don't kill her," Kisame repeated, this time staring at where Sakura sat. "It would be a waste."

Deidara scoffed and sat up straight, pouting. "Since when do _you_ care, yeah?"

He turned slowly to stare at Deidara intently, mouth half open and those horridly sharp teeth just barely being hinted at behind his lips. "Don't kill her, Deidara. She doesn't deserve it."

"So you suddenly just decide that you're all righteous and good now that Akatsuki is gone?" Deidara half-shouted, attracting the attention of several restaurant-goers. "It doesn't work like that! You can't be a villain one second and a hero the next!"

He was still so calm, Deidara mused. He didn't used to be like that. He didn't used to like the girl. In fact, their roles _had _damn near been reversed. It was all _Deidara _could do to stop Kisame from killing the girl. But now…

"If you keep her with you, that's fine. Just know that she'll eventually find a way to escape or at least contact home, Deidara. You're not as strong a force as you think."

He'd apparently had an epiphany in the time that Sakura had been with them.

Deidara put his head in his hands, elbows so rudely on the table, and managed to look once more at Sakura through the corner of his eye.

So where was _his _epiphany? Where was _his _grand realization? Where was _his _drastic change of character? The only thing that had been certain through this little journey was his increasing annoyance with the world and everything in it.

He scoffed. What next? Was he going to slaughter his clan and leave his brother to wreak revenge on him? Well, it was certainly the path he was headed toward, and though Itachi was strong, that man was the _last _person Deidara would _ever _want to identify with. He was a mind-fuck inside a bastard inside a sociopath, and Deidara liked to believe that he was above that.

"What do you propose I do, then?" he finally asked, not bothering to look at Kisame.

Kisame audibly took a deep breath, though it was structured—calm—collected. Ever the stoic, Kisame. Congratulations. "I would let her go," he said, sounding sagely and wise. For fuck's sake, he may have been forty, but he was no all-knowing entity. If anything he was just going through his midlife crisis.

Well, that was what Deidara used to console himself, at least.

"String her along for another week or so," Kisame said, moving to stand, and Deidara followed. "And then break it to her slowly. Just tell her that you have nothing to do with her and would rather release her then murder her." They both started toward Sakura. "She's a smart girl. She'll understand, and she'll respect your wishes."

Deidara nodded. All in all, it…sounded like something he was just going to have to resign himself to. Kisame was intelligent, and the plan was likely to end in little or no misgivings or grievances. It was better than anything _Deidara _could come up with, in any case. "Okay."

"And on top of that all," Kisame continued, and the both of them were staring intently at Sakura's seated form by now, "when she's gone, you can't go back for her."

There was an almost unnoticeable pang in Deidara's chest, but he passed it off as hunger or anxiety. "What makes you think I'd _want _to, yeah?"

Sakura smiled at their approach. "Hey."

Deidara bit his lip and nodded a greeting of his own. "Sakura."

Top of Form

Bottom of Form


	14. N is for Nautical

Found

**Found**

**N is for Nautical**

O O O

Dinnertime came around too soon, and Deidara still hadn't decided.

He'd discovered by flipping through the brochure out of boredom later that day that the ship was to dock in a remote harbor in Earth Country, stay for a day, and then make the return trip tomorrow morning.

He, Sakura, and Kisame, of course, wouldn't be _staying _for the return trip. That harbor in Earth Country was where Kisame would ultimately part from them, heading off to that island to make do with the rest of his life. And then…Deidara would have to carry through with whatever plans he had for Sakura.

A stray something bounced dumbly off of his head, landing in his lap. He glanced down with a blink, finding a small green grape there.

Scowling, he picked it up. Sakura met him with a playful smile.

Too bad he was feeling anything but playful.

With a roll of his eyes, he plopped it into his mouth, teeth pressing down, tart flavor satiating him but not really. He hadn't eaten for damn near all day, but for some reason he wasn't that hungry. Sure, the food all looked delicious—that he most certainly didn't deny, and even though his stomach growled and rumbled incorrigibly, he just didn't _feel _like it.

"What's wrong?" Sakura asked from across the table, getting ready to flick another grape at him from her fruit salad, but then changing her mind and eating said grape herself. "I thought you were hungry," she continued when she'd chewed and swallowed.

He shrugged. "I thought I was, too. I guess I lost my appetite, yeah."

She gave him an odd, quizzical look. "Why?"

He shrugged again and pushed some broccoli around his plate idly. Kisame had very graciously left the two of them to their own devices, having already eaten. He'd actually meant to give Deidara and opening and an _opportunity _to speak with Sakura about their plans.

In other words, Kisame had stepped outside to allow Deidara the time and space to craft this elaborate lie and then feed it to Sakura. The only thing he'd really be telling the truth about would be Kisame's departure. And for some reason, this bothered him.

He didn't really…_want _to lie to her. He wanted to tell her the truth. He wanted to ask her what she thought about it. He wanted her opinion; her input; her irrational outburst; her _anything._

He was probably just beating around the bush, he realized, picking up the piece of broccoli and eating it. Bland, but not unsatisfying. He'd just forgotten the salt.

"Deidara?"

Her voice brought him forcibly back to reality, and he forced himself to chew and swallow quickly. Which he did.

"What's wrong with you?" she asked, and this time worry was apparent in those pretty green eyes of hers. She held her chopsticks resting on the plate before her, cocking her head to the side.

He sighed and rubbed his temples with his free hand. "I just have a headache."

"Oh," she said, sounding like she just realized something, and set down the chopsticks. The next moment she was walking around the table to stand beside him, holding out her hands in a seemingly placating movement. "Here, I can take care of that for you."

He pulled away his hand and looked at her, and she seemed to take this as an okay to start, because she pressed _her _hands to either side of his head, healing his headache and smiling in the process.

"I thought you didn't want to heal me in public places?" he questioned, closing his eyes and leaning into her touch.

"I don't usually, but this is minor. I doubt anyone could tell the difference between me just consoling you and me healing you."

"And if they could, yeah?"

"Then we'd beat them up."

She sounded so blunt and so serious that Deidara couldn't help a short, barking laugh. He opened his eyes, staring at her with a mix of incredulity and amusement. "We'll _what?"_

She pulled away from him, apparently finished, and frowned. "Yes! We'll beat them up. What, did you expect me to say we'll kill them?" She scoffed and returned to her seat, pouting. "I'm not that merciless, unlike _some _people."

He rolled his eyes and was finally able to stomach another piece of broccoli, this time with salt _and _teriyaki sauce. It tasted good, and he took another.

The smile she shot him as he was looking down didn't escape him, though he pretended, perhaps for her sake, that it did.

He set in on devouring his chicken not moments later, over-abusing the sauce dispenser on the table. He kept a mild eye on Sakura and her movements, watching her pick her stir fry to pieces, eating everything in increments according to whatever category they fell into: First the peppers, then the broccoli, then the string beans, then the chicken, then the rice. It was almost nerve-wracking, really, because Deidara was so used to seeing people shove whatever meals they could come across quickly into their mouths, either because they were in a hurry or because they were simply Hidan and Kakuzu.

He snorted at himself and shook his head, taking a clump of teriyaki-soaked rice. Like hell he'd miss those two. He couldn't _stand _them when they were around. Really the only members he'd been able to deal with were Sasori, Tobi, and sometimes Zetsu. Leader was an absolute prick all day every day, Itachi didn't really give a damn about anything, _Kisame _had been the biggest wise-ass bastard of the bunch, and that in and of itself just pissed him off to no end, he never even _saw _the blue-haired member, and the Zombie Twins, as they were so fondly referred to, had just grated on each and every one of his nerves.

And sure, he'd had _his _little moments, too, but all in all, he'd been content staying _out _of the song-and-dance snafus that went on within the Akatsuki. He'd kept mainly to himself, happy with just working with the love of his life: _art._

And perhaps, in retrospect, that was why he and Sasori had been drawn to each other in the first place. Sasori was always so stoic and uninterested, but he didn't hesitate to throw his piece in for a debate. All their squabbles and frivolous art quarrels aside, he'd really respected Sasori as his superior and someone he looked up to—someone he strived to surpass. It had been a major blow when he'd been defeated, both to his emotions, which was a given, and to his self-confidence. Because if Sasori had been defeated in battle, what did that say about him? Simple: He didn't have a chance.

He flexed his fingers experimentally before taking a drink of his water.

But then again, who was sitting here now? Who was still alive, still practicing his art whenever possible, still—?

He glanced at Sakura, then, and felt a pang of resentment, if only for a second.

Murderer of his master, sure, but he couldn't blame her. She'd been threatened to be killed—to be turned into a puppet. And if Sasori couldn't hold his own against her and that old woman, then…

Well, then that was essentially his own fault.

…Okay, if he was making excuses for him _not _to be angry at the woman-child—nevermind that she was only six years shy of him—who killed his partner, then there was definitely something wrong with him. Either he was in too deep or he was merely tired and frustrated from their earlier endeavors, and something told him it was more the latter and not so much the former.

With an inconsolable sigh, he set down his chopsticks on the side of his plate and pushed it away from him. There went his appetite again.

Sakura stopped chewing her last bit of rice, swallowed, and then furrowed her brow. "What's wrong?" she asked, cocking her head at him.

He scratched the bridge of his nose. "Kisame's leaving tomorrow."

"Yeah. You didn't know that?"

"Of course I knew, yeah," he scoffed, glaring at her. "I was just stating a fact."

"…Okay?"

"And…" He waved a hand as if to try and scoot along the conversation. It was moving sickeningly slow. "And we need to discuss our…plans."

"'_Our?'" _she sniffed, leaning back and folding her arms. "When have you _ever _included my opinion on any of your plans?"

He rubbed his palms over his face.

"And since when do you _care _what I think about _anything, _anywa—?"

"Since you stopped being a captive and started being a comrade," he said without really thinking, and he immediately regretted it. She drew back further into the booth seat, lips pressed into a tight line.

A moment of uncomfortable silence passed before he suddenly found himself annoyed with that thick fringe of bangs over his eyes again. He pushed it back deftly, where it fell along his temple in haphazard strands.

"Look," he began, not quite sure how to redeem himself as a kidnapper. He apparently failed in that area. "I don't…I mean…" Getting frustrated, he rolled his eyes to stare up at the ceiling, and then back at her. "We're both adults. We're _all _adults." He folded his hands atop the table and leaned forwards. "We have the ability to make rational decisions, but we also, unfortunately, have the ability to make poor decisions based on split-second impulses, yeah."

"What are you talking about?"

He licked his lip and then bit the bottom one gently. The teeth on his hands ground together anxiously. "I'm guessing subtlety isn't going to work on you."

She frowned.

"What I'm trying to say is that you're _free," _he muttered, leaning even closer to her, hunched over the table. "You can go _home, _Sakura. You can _leave."_

By the way she stared at him with wide, unblinking eyes, he guessed this came as a complete surprise to her.

"But," he amended, straightening himself and flicking his bangs back again, "there's a catch."

Her expression turned dark.

"You can't tell anyone about my or Kisame's existence," he said under his breath, suddenly concerned with keeping his voice low. It didn't really matter, though, seeing as the chatter of the customers and the almost rhythmic clink of eating utensils drowned out any voice lower than a normal speaking tone. "You can't tell your friends you were kidnapped. You can't tell them you saw us. You can't tell them _anything, _yeah."

She didn't talk for a long time, just stared at him, still looking absolute incredulous and untrusting. And maybe…disappointed? "Are you…you're not just messing around?" she asked softly, and he shook his head.

"Do I have any reason to mess with you?"

She looked down at her plate. "So…when?"

"When what?"

"When can I leave?"

He tapped his foot to keep his knee from acquiring a nervous twitch. "As soon as we dock in Earth Country. From there, you can…go wherever you like, yeah. Just remember: Do _not _tell anyone about us. I can…I can hunt you down and kill you if I found you—"

"I won't," she answered quickly. "I won't tell anyone."

He watched her fiddle with a fray on her sleeve.

"What are _you _going to do?" she finally asked.

He shrugged and swirled his straw around in his drink, and with his long, dragging exhale of breath, the tension surrounding the both of them seemed to melt, down into the carpet, down into the floorboards, down into the bowels of the ship, through the hull, and to the ocean floor itself. He'd never felt more comfortable, actually, and it was odd. "I'll probably just go with Kisame, yeah." He shook his head disdainfully. "There's nothing for me here."

"'Here' meaning…?"

"Meaning here, in the Land of Earth. Meaning here…well, in the ninja world, I guess." He shrugged. "I mean…after being in Akatsuki and living through all that…you kind of get a new appreciation for life, yeah."

More silence enveloped them, and as a desperate attempt to keep that tension _down, _he stood. "Come on. Let's go outside with Kisame."

And so they did, and he was only half surprised when she stopped him in the doorway to the exit. "Deidara."

He was _completely _surprised, however, to find tears building and collecting on her eyelids and then her eyelashes, and then there were a few running down her cheeks, one settling at the corner of her lips while another took residence under her chin.

"_Deidara."_

He glanced right and then left, and then at her. "Uh…eh?"

He was pulled into a crushing hug before he could say a word otherwise, her arms tightening around his ribcage and under his arms as she pressed her face into his chest, shoulders shaking when it became apparent that she _was _crying and that those tears _hadn't _been a trick of the light. Or lack thereof.

Awkwardly, he patted her back. "Um…?"

"I don't blame you," she mumbled into him, burying her nose further into him, and he felt her arms tighten around him. He pulled her closer accordingly, one hand resting against the back of her head while the other spread across both her shoulder blades, stretching from palm to fingertips.

"What do you mean, yeah?"

"I _won't _blame you."

And he didn't have much else to say but "Okay."

O O O

Kisame was there, of course, leaning against the railing of the ship, staring off at nothing, it seemed. The sun had already long set, and as Sakura and Deidara approached him, he inclined his head toward them.

Sakura strode beside him, her whole left side pressing into his right, and Deidara flanked the other side of her.

She looked up at Kisame, who offered a grin, and rested her head against his upper arm.

As a direct response, apparently, he wrapped that arm around her shoulder, tugging her closer. And Sakura took it in while she could: His body heat, the smell of him, however devoid of perfumes and all the pretty things it was, and the sound of his voice, because after all, this might be the last time she was able to see him.

And in one movement she put one arm around Kisame's waist and one around Deidara's, drawing the both of them closer. Both seemed very securely petrified that she was planning on tossing them over the railing and into the water by the way each of them tensed, but she laughed at this notion.

There was no way she'd ever hurt either of them. She was in way too deep.

Deidara's hand was on her lower hip, then, perhaps territorial or perhaps just searching the same kind of contact she was giving him, and Sakura smiled wide.

"You know," she mused, sighing contentedly and looking out at the ocean and then at the sky, "I kind of feel like we make a good team."

Deidara scoffed. "Don't get all sentimental on us, yeah. We kidnapped you. Remember?"

"Sure, sure," she replied, shrugging, her hands slipping down to the smalls of their backs. "But now that I think about it, I can kind of sympathize—"

"Never sympathize with the enemy," Kisame muttered, though it was said in nothing but good spirits. "It could be a major downfall of yours one of these days."

A short fuss of indignation speared through Sakura, but it was gone as quick as it came, and she smiled with a set jaw.

And for the time being, she simply drew her contentment from the way the water looked, so dark and the way it disappeared into the sky at the horizon. She drew her contentment from the two shinobi at each arm and how much each of them cared for her, no matter how they might deny it. The confused artist and the learned rogue, the two missing-nin with one alibi and a handful of excuses.

Haruno Sakura, the reformed captive, the girl taken from a rock and dropped in a hard place, drew her contentment from two men that she might have killed without a second thought not a month earlier.

And then the weight of her trusted dynamic came crashing down, crushing her lungs, tearing the breath from her throat, and she bit her lip.

After tomorrow, there would only be one ex-Akatsuki to draw her contentment from.

And the day after that, she'd be alone.

Top of Form

Bottom of Form


	15. O is for Opiate

Found

**Found**

**O is for Opiate**

O O O

He didn't have any bags to pack. He didn't have any belongings to gather. All he had were his weapons, a few seals, and the loose change in his pockets.

Hoshigaki Kisame, a man that had made Haruno Sakura feel the complete range of emotions—the pain, the fear, the hatred, the reverence, and most recently, the clench in her chest and the fuzziness in her stomach that she could very vaguely refer to a sort of platonic or friendly love—stood before her, smiling at his place in the harbor.

People rushed around, anxious to get to wherever it was they were going, but Sakura refused to notice. Because it was almost like there was this void, this empty, calm, quiet spot where she, Kisame, and Deidara all just stood looking at each other.

And then Kisame smiled. It was something rare because it was genuine, because it wasn't backed by malicious intent or an underlying mischievousness, because it was the last one she'd see in a long, long time, if not the last she'd see ever again.

Just like that, the butterflies in her stomach disappeared and were replaced with a sick, morbid sense of dread. She clutched the fabric of her pants at her thighs obstinately, biting her lip and bending stiffly at the waist in a rigid bow.

She kept her head down and her eyes shut tight for a long time after that, and when she felt a large hand on the back of her head, she shook.

"Sakura," Kisame said, removing his hand. "You don't have to bow to me."

When she straightened, _he _was bowing, one hand folded across his stomach and the other placed neatly behind his back. And she realized how much he'd changed from the brash, unyielding shinobi that had aided in her kidnapping to the collected, playful shinobi that stood before her today, offering her his last valediction in a formal bow that had her throwing her arms around his torso as soon as he stood once more to his full height.

He was leaving her, and there was nothing she could do about it.

He returned the embrace, first with a bit of caution and then with warm, strong arms, completely enveloping her in his much larger frame.

And then Deidara completely surprised the two of them by sighing almost unnoticeably and wrapping one arm around Kisame and one around Sakura.

And there the three of them stood, heads against shoulders and collarbones and chests, arms tight around each other, the last of the great, the breaking apart of what very well could have been the family they pretended to be.

And in that instant, it was suddenly clear to Sakura and probably Deidara and _definitely _Kisame that they had _needed _this. They'd needed this reassurance of existence, of necessity, of rightness. They'd needed to know that they were wanted and loved and that _someone _was thinking of them, that _someone _was caring about them, that _someone _was yearning for their presence.

And that was what they had received in the Akatsuki. Someplace for them to thrive and congregate and group off, creating their own morbid clique, making plans for a future that didn't involve loneliness.

And maybe—just _maybe, _because it was such a monumental possibility—that was why they fought. The presence of another human being and the physical contact, whether it was malicious or defensive or a combination of both, was so reassuring, was so _precious, _that they'd go to ultimate lengths to achieve that.

So Sakura couldn't help but wonder, fingers digging into Kisame's shoulder blades as Deidara's respectively dug into her shoulder, how broken their lives must have been prior to the Akatsuki.

Everyone wanted to belong.

Everyone wanted to be a requirement.

And…and she supposed everyone just wanted to be a part of something greater.

Kisame was the first to break their little group hug.

Then came the tears for Sakura, and she collapsed to her knees, unable to bear the weight. Why did she have to even meet these two? Why did she have to befriend them after all the wrong they'd done to her?

And now why did they have to _leave?_

"We could have been great," she whispered into her hands, and she felt Deidara kneel in front of her. She leaned forward and touched her forehead to his chest, holding it in to the best of her abilities. She'd never been particularly good at letting her tears fester inside her.

He didn't touch her; rather, he allowed her to lean on him, nuzzling into the fabric of his shirt, face contorted from tears. And when he finally _did _allow himself to touch her, he placed one consoling hand on her spine.

"We _were _great," he whispered right back.

When Sakura recovered herself from Deidara, Kisame was gone.

O O O

It was windy in Earth Country, as Deidara remembered it, and he wasn't proved wrong. The wind was so strong that it picked up small rocks and pieces of clumped sediment, depositing them on the heads and in the eyes of himself and Sakura.

And Sakura, he decided, being generous and pitying for the first time in a long time, simply didn't deserve all of this.

So they'd happened upon a cave that had proved to be delightfully deserted. Deidara had volunteered to go out and find food, being more accustomed to the foreign territory than Sakura, but not after ensuring that she was comfortable. They didn't have much longer together, after all, and even though the thought of her up and leaving him so easily—so _seamlessly—_made the dull ache in his chest flare, he reminded himself that it was for the better. They'd both do nothing but benefit from of their separation. He was a missing-nin and he just wanted to live the rest of his life in peace. And she…well, he was fairly certain she merely wished to go home and fall back into her original Konoha-nin dynamic.

He found their dinner without much of a fuss, having simply uprooted a few hiding field mice with small-scale explosions and snatching a few fish from a nearby fisherman's net.

He returned to the cave, food bundled in one hand some kindling under his free arm. He spotted Sakura immediately, though she seemed to be asleep, lying curled on her side and against a cave wall.

Their designated "sleeping spot" wasn't too deep within, so the temperature was a humid medium between freezing cold and blistering hot. He was tempted to travel a bit deeper into the recesses of said cave, but he hadn't wandered _that _far back, and he was anxious that he'd find something he…well, that he didn't necessarily want to find. He'd seen his fair share of snakes in Earth Country, and he didn't particularly enjoy their company. Especially when they were thirty-something feet long.

He sat down with a sigh, igniting the wood bits in less than a second. He set up a makeshift spit soon enough, as well, and set to work cooking the fish.

Sakura woke up before they were completely cooked. If they were still hungry afterward, he'd cook the field mice, but he wanted to avoid doing so if at all possible.

He looked over at her to see her looking at _him, _and he simply nodded. He hadn't been gone for more than an hour, so he was certain her rest had been neither pleasant nor long.

She rubbed her arms over the cloth of the long-sleeve shirt she wore. "So how's your jaw?"

If she wanted small talk, then he'd give her small talk. He rubbed said jaw with the hand that wasn't occupied rotating the crank-handle of the spit. "It feels okay, yeah. There's just a pop on the right side when I chew."

"Sometimes or every time?"

Medic-mode. He recognized this for precisely what it was. And he was slightly grateful that she'd reverted into her strictly business attitude. "Just sometimes."

She moved closer to him, looking just as ragged as she must have felt. One hand came to his jaw while the other steadied herself on the floor of the cave, and that wonderful healing process began. In with the cool and out with the minute pain, and he felt the hinge of his jaw crack for just a second before it just seemed to…well…_fit. _She pulled back not five minutes later, and he stretched said jaw by inducing a yawn.

He nodded when he recovered from the yawn. "Works fine now. Thanks."

She folded her legs under her and shrugged. "I'm the one who messed it up in the first place. It's the least I can do."

He didn't argue with this, mainly because it was true. She _had _damaged it. What was he supposed to say to that? "No, it's okay; you don't have to heal it"?

Snapping himself from his brief little reverie, he quickly pulled the fish off of the fire with his bare hands. He hissed when it burned his fingers and dropped the stick o' fish in his lap.

"Where did you find those?" she asked, leaning over and sniffing them.

"Fisherman. He wasn't paying close enough attention to his net, yeah."

She didn't object to the stolen meal as he thought she would, but instead shrugged and began to pick apart the fish with her fingers.

Desperate for conversation—_anything _to break the silence that was fitting over them too comfortably for his tastes, Deidara began to speak. "So…what are you going to do when you get home?"

She shrugged and swallowed a mouthful of meat. "Probably take a nice, long, _warm _bath."

"Ah."

She stared at him quizzically. "Well, I mean… You can have one too, if you want."

His fingers twitched around his own fish. "At _your _house? In _Konoha?"_

"Yes."

He snorted. "Don't think so."

"Why?" she asked, that faux-but-not-really tone overtaking her voice. She set the fish against her thigh. "I'm sure they wouldn't think twice about you, Deidara. It's been years, and you look way different anyway."

He held up one of his palms, and the mouth there abruptly stuck out its tongue at Sakura. "If you haven't noticed—"

"Pockets. Handy little things, aren't they?"

Exasperated, Deidara took another bite of fish and spoke around each chew. "Look, I'm eventually going to have to shake someone's hand or something, yeah. And it's not like I don't _want _to take a nice, long, warm bath at your house—or _anyone's _house, for that matter—it's just that it's…too much of a _risk."_

He swallowed just as she frowned.

"Still," she argued, switching her gaze instead to the fish lying on her thigh. "I mean…it doesn't seem…fair."

"What?"

"How long has it been?"

"Since what?"

She picked at a scale. "Since you kidnapped me."

"A few months, give or take a few days, yeah. Why?"

"Some people are already engaged by that time," she muttered, and Deidara pretended not to hear.

He finished off his fish and leaned back, hands behind his head and staring up at the ceiling of the cave. He listened to the sounds of Sakura finishing her meal for a while, the soft ripping, the grinding of her teeth, and even her steady breathing. But then his mind began to slip, first to Sakura, of course, and then to Kisame. He would have been disturbed by this revelation under any normal circumstances, but…well…the circumstances were _anything _but normal.

Regrettably, Kisame was gone. Granted, he wasn't gone forever; Deidara would probably see him again, maybe in a few years or so. But that left him utterly alone with Sakura, and, if he was going to be quite honest with himself, he _wanted _to pursue something greater with her. She was annoying and a little bit boisterous and rather _violent _when she really felt the need, but all in all—

She lay down beside him, mimicking his pose.

—she was someone he wouldn't mind keeping around a little longer.

A week, Kisame had said, was as long as Deidara needed to keep stringing her along. Any longer and rather detrimental things would happen to whatever relationship they'd managed to forge from the ashes of an already dysfunctional little "team." Hell, it was pretty hard to believe that they'd gone from kidnappers to partners to comrades to friends. And it was even _harder _to believe that they even had a _chance _to become romantically involved.

"Thank you," someone said after a while, and Deidara realized that it had been Sakura who spoke.

He rolled his head to the side to get a good look at her face. Her eyes were closed, long, pretty lashes fluttering. "For what?" Déjà vu.

"For everything."

_Major _déjà vu.

"What's 'everything,' yeah?" he asked, propping himself up on his side.

Her eyes opened and she rolled over to face him, also on her side. She didn't seem to mind the rock floor that they lay on. "The experience, I guess. I don't know what would have happened if you hadn't…you know."

"Kidnapped you?"

"Yeah. That."

Efficiently diffusing any notions that the scene was turning in any way, shape, or form mushy and romantic, Deidara scoffed and turned his back to her. "I didn't _kidnap _you. I…forcefully invited you to join me."

"Mm-hmm," she drawled, placing one hand on his shoulder. He tensed against his own will. "Use all the fancy words you like, but a cigar's a cigar."

"Well… You said yourself that you were grateful!" Deidara defended, only faintly aware that his cheeks were dusting an interesting shade of pink-orange. "If you're happy and I'm happy, then what's the problem, yeah?"

"The problem is that you're _not _happy," she retaliated, shoving him so that he lay on his back on the ground, and when he tried to roll back over obstinately, she forced herself on top of him, straddling his hips and holding him firmly in place. "You _know _you're not happy with this."

He scoffed again and tried to wriggle free, but he couldn't do so without injuring her. And he didn't want to do that. "Well, what the hell do you want me to do about it? I've got no fucking choice in the matter!"

"Why not?" She set her jaw.

"Because we're too. Fucking. Different!"

"Meaning?"

"_Look at you!" _he yelled, damn near snarling. "You're a Leaf-nin! You're the Hokage's apprentice—the student of one of the legendary sannin! You killed my master and you can break fucking _mountains _with your _fist!"_

"And you're a missing-nin from Earth Country," Sakura retorted just as stubbornly. "You're an ex-member of the Akatsuki—one of only two or three surviving members. You attempted to kidnap the Kazekage and you _did _kidnap the apprentice to the Hokage. You can make _clay bombs _in your _hand."_

"Do you see my fucking point?" Deidara hissed through clenched teeth, very uncomfortable with the arrangements. He could feel his masculinity slipping through the fingers restrained at his sides. "It would never work. Even if we _wanted _it to, yeah."

"But—"

"What the hell am I going to do? Waltz right the fuck inside Konoha and propose to you in the market square?"

"I didn't—"

"Just move in with you? Live at your house in secrecy? Hide in the closet every time your friends come over?"

"Deidara, you—"

"I don't deal with confinement well, Sakura," he said, and he was dead serious, his one visible eye trained steadily on hers. "A closet or a prison cell, it's all the same to me."

"Just—"

"And another thing! I—"

With a swift hand, she covered Deidara's mouth. His voice broke against her palm in muffled, indignant shouts, but she just scowled deeper at him. "Your turn to listen to me," she instructed, hand still in place. "I'm not saying any of that. I don't even _want _you to live in Konoha. All I'm saying is come with me for one night, maybe two. The Hokage won't notice you. I doubt she's even there, and if she's not, I can easily slip you past the guards at the gate."

When she released his mouth, he immediately followed up with a question. _"Why?"_

"Because," she argued, apparently unable to form any other forms of intelligent debate. "Because I…I don't want you to leave so quickly."

His whole frame relaxed a bit.

She rested her hands against his chest. "It sounds corny and cliché, but everyone's been leaving me. _Everyone. _I don't have any family left, most of my friends are dead because of this war…and now even Kisame left."

"Kisame left because he wanted to," Deidara tried in a less manic voice. It did its job, and he continued in a smoother tone. "He left of his own accord, yeah. He wasn't ripped from you or jerked out of the living world. He went off to start a new life."

She slipped off of him, retreating instead to his side, and Deidara sat up, putting his hands on her thighs when he realized she was on the brink of tears. She seemed to be doing that a lot lately. "And maybe…" he began, moving so that he was eye level with her, "that's what _you _should do, too."

And then she collapsed upon him, one sobbing, trembling mess of a woman formerly known as Haruno Sakura. Her arms went around his neck, her face pressed into his hair, and she just…cried.

It took Deidara a second to register, but then he relented and put his arms around her waist, holding her tight, telling himself that he wouldn't let go. That maybe they _could _work things out. That maybe something would pop up and stall them at least a _little _bit longer.

Quite a while passed before she managed to calm down enough to cease her hiccups, and then the crying into his hair suddenly turned to kisses at his neck, and he was utterly, depravedly confused.

"Eh?" was about all he could manage.

"Deidara," she said, voice slightly cracked from tears. "Answer me."

"…What?"

"Why do I love you?"

And he didn't really have anything to say at this.

Top of Form

Bottom of Form


	16. P is for Point Blank

Found

**Found**

**P is for Point-Blank**

O O O

Morning came with a ragged weariness that almost had Deidara rolling over and throwing up. He'd been away from the harsh conditions of the nomadic "outlaw" life for so long that any manner of mattress harder than a futon made him physically ill and aching all over. He was growing soft, he realized, but it didn't bother him as much as it probably should have.

It was still mildly dark outside from what he could see, though the grey touches of first-light were slowly creeping their way across the various peaks and large boulders in their canyon-like place of residence. The fire had long since gone out, of course, but it hadn't really been much needed during the night. It was dry and hot already; they didn't need a campfire to up those factors any more.

Carefully shifting onto his other hip, since his back was practically _screaming _in pain and his injured hip wasn't doing the best, either, Deidara groped along the rock wall until he could lift into a sitting position.

One glance around the small room gave him the information he needed: Sakura was sleeping against the opposite wall, spread out on her stomach. No shame, that woman.

As soon as he stretched out one leg to begin rubbing the life back into it, he heard her speak.

"Deidara, tell me about the war."

She sounded groggy. He wondered how long she'd been up. "Why?" he asked, annoyed at how scratchy sleep made his voice.

"Because I want to be able to talk to you for as long as possible."

He remained perfectly still for a long moment, watching her. The only movement she made was to breathe, and though her face was pointed in his direction, her eyes were closed and her expression was passionless. Some small corner of his mind was amused at the thought of her sleep-talking.

But she wasn't. And he knew that. "…I don't know much about it," he admitted, clearing his throat in a vain attempt to rid himself of his fatigue-clogged tone. "I just know that Akatsuki wanted to do everything in their power to stay out of it, yeah."

"Why?"

"Because we're not politicians, we're criminals," he answered, as if it were the most obvious answer in the world. Nevertheless, he elaborated. "Our leader didn't want to meddle with the affairs of other countries. He had his own goals and aspirations for Akatsuki, and it didn't involve conquering territory or capturing other ninja villages, yeah."

"What _were _his goals and aspirations?"

Deidara picked idly at a fringe on his pants. "I don't know. I just went along with whatever he said. It's not like I…was privy to all of this information, yeah." And just as an afterthought, he added, "You'd have to ask Kisame about that kind of stuff."

"Why do you think Sound finally rebelled?"

"Power-hungry assholes?"

"Or just jealousy over Konohagakure?"

At this Deidara snorted. "Jealous, yeah? I doubt it. Sound may have been sort of a minority on the continent, but it definitely wasn't jealous of anybody."

"How so?"

"Well, look at it. It had no government. If Orochimaru hadn't marched in and fucked it all up, it might have had a chance at reform. Could have been something better, yeah." He cleared his throat again, pleased that his voice was returning to normal.

"So you don't have an inkling of a clue as to why they decided to wage war with Konoha?"

"Nope."

"Okay, so who do you think will win?"

He studied her for a moment. "Are you _worried?"_

Her eyes snapped open at this, and she settled a hard glare on him. "Of course I'm worried, you idiot. It's my home country. When I was back there, it seemed like the casualties just kept piling up."

"And you don't expect that, yeah? I'm sure Sound's lost far more."

"Well, yeah, I expect it. I just didn't really…"

"Didn't think your friends would be the ones to go?"

"…Exactly," she relented in a quiet, whisper-like voice.

He sighed dramatically and managed to crawl his way over to her, where he stared obstinately into her face. "Yes, Sakura, I think that Konoha is going to win."

She nodded and put her head down. "Okay."

Things were silent for a long time after that, and he contented himself with playing with her hair, first braiding it and then simply twirling it around his finger, watching little ringlet curls form, tighten, and then let go in a simple wave. He didn't want her to leave. He _really _didn't want her to leave…

"Deidara?"

"What?"

"…Would you think less of me if I said I kind of didn't want to go home?"

And this had him taken aback. "W…what?"

"I mean…" She sat up and rubbed her knuckles anxiously. "There's nothing _for _me there. If Naruto and Sai and Yamato haven't found me yet, then they must be…"

"What about your other friends, yeah? And your Hokage?" He couldn't believe he was debating for her _to _leave him. Why was he doing this?

She shook her head. "All my other friends have either gone off or are dead. And the Hokage…"

"…The Hokage…?" Deidara prompted, curiosity glinting in that one visible eye. Which reminded him… He pushed back that thick fringe of bangs, shoving it behind his ear unceremoniously. Damn thing was always obstructing his view.

"She'd do fine without me," Sakura blurted, though it was more like she was asking Deidara for reassurance than stating a fact. "The war's almost over, isn't it? It's been so long—"

"It's only been a few years, yeah."

She punched him hard on the shoulder, and he withdrew with a surprised grunt. "Stop that!" she yelled, pouting in an angry frown.

"Stop _what?" _he defended, his voice raising a few octaves as he clutched his shoulder. "I didn't do anything!"

"Do you _want _me to leave?" she asked desperately, and he almost didn't notice that she'd begun crying.

"Not…really," he answered, mentally kicking himself for refraining. But it was so hard to answer straight when a ridiculous, childish red tinge was creeping tauntingly across his own cheeks. "I mean…no. Of course not, yeah."

"Then why do you keep giving me reasons to leave?" She sniffled and reached out to heal the bruise forming on his shoulder—an unspoken apology.

"I just…want _you _to be happy, I guess… I…I don't know! It's just what I do, okay? I try to refute things because it's second nature by now, yeah."

She moved those medic-nin hands from his shoulder to his jaw, giving him what very well could be the last little healing session with her. Ever.

Deidara suddenly hated the word "ever."

"Thank you," she mumbled, apparently over her crying fit. Thank _God. _"Are you hurt anywhere else?"

Usually he'd shake his head and comment on how she was always _coddling _him, damn it, quit with that, woman, but because that horrendous "E" word was looming over him like a bad habit, he nodded. "I think I slept on my neck wrong. And my hips and back are kind of sore."

She instructed him to lie down on his stomach, which he did, and from there she massaged his neck and the trapezius muscles at the base of it, infusing chakra to make it heal and feel delightful all at the same time.

He was almost asleep again when she told him to flip over.

He did so with half a mind.

And then she straddled him.

And Deidara's little relaxation session came to a screeching, grinding halt.

She put her hands at the base of his neck again, though this time she drifted to his collarbone and the edges of his shoulders, fingers kneading, rubbing, smoothing. One hand actually strayed to follow a line of muscle in one of his arms, giving him cold chills.

"That's not how you do it," he said simply, softly, and she smiled.

"I know."

He put the back of his head on the dirt floor, now, closing his eyes and keeping his hands obediently at his sides. Maybe he was unjustly reveling in her touch, maybe he was in some way inadvertently taking advantage of those tumultuous emotions tumbling around in her head, but either way, she was enjoying it. And so was he. So in the end, wasn't that all that really mattered?

She pushed the bangs out of his face and tugged out his hair tie slowly, and then her mouth was on his, and it was _slow. _Lips running smooth, lingering strokes, tongue curling around the other's, her fingers threading into his blond hair and his hand fisting her hair into a loose bun at the back of her neck, because he didn't want anything to interrupt. It wasn't the perfect conditions by any means—hell, they were in a cave and the world was falling apart all around them, but _fuck, _why didn't they just _let _it already? They'd done enough fighting to last a lifetime, quite honestly.

Her weight on his hips was suddenly the most prevalent thing in the world, especially when she shifted a little bit to the left or right. So he urged her off of him, shrugged off his over-shirt, and then almost sighed in relief when she caught the hint and lay down on it.

It was almost…invigorating, this feeling. This feeling of absolute power, of hovering over her like he was, knees trapping hers and resting his weight on his forearms up by her head. And her expression was completely priceless, eyebrows upturned and looking at him like she couldn't decide what to do next.

So he decided for her. And he kissed her again. Because who knew? It could be the last time and the first time all at the same moment, and he wanted to savor it while he could. His hands—artist's hands, long-fingered hands, hands that had sculpted and molded and been torn off and stitched back on again—took her by each side of her face, until all he could see was her and all she could see was him.

"I'm never going to see you again, am I?" she asked when he drew away, hands still on her face, and her lower lip quivered. "This is it, isn't it?"

He looked away for a moment and then gave a consenting shake of his head. It wasn't a "no" and it wasn't a "yes." It was more of an "I don't want to know anything at this moment." And he didn't.

"Deidara?" she persisted, voice pitching up a few octaves. "Just tell me the truth. I don't want to be in the dark."

With an almost-silent cry of frustration, he pressed his cheek against hers. _"I don't have all the answers, _Sakura."

She clutched him by the collar of his shirt, voice trembling like her body. "Then _lie." _A tear fell.

And so he did. And his voice was nothing more than a whisper.

"Do you remember that tornado, yeah?" he asked, lips right beside her ear as he buried his face in the crook of her shoulder. "Remember? He laughed and picked you up and dropped you right beside me?"

He heard it—_felt _it—as Haruno Sakura broke into quiet sobs.

He smiled against her neck. "And remember the cloud? Who made me sit on that island?"

She hiccupped and nodded.

"Well," he drawled playfully, and his smile was apparent even in his tone, _"I _think they were in cahoots, yeah."

She tried to hide another hiccup.

"I think they _knew, _yeah," he whispered, smiling sadly into her hair, furrowing his brow. "And I'm glad they did."

Her hiccups and sobs and gasps abruptly died, and she settled for simply keeping herself wrapped around him, occasionally giving his collarbone Eskimo kisses or rubbing her cheek against his shoulder.

It was so blaringly obvious that she'd been stressed. They were _both _stressed, and it was taking its toll. All of the pressure building up would eventually snap, and then what would happen?

"Just forget about it," he murmured, pressing his thumbs just underneath her ears. "Don't think about it."

"How can I _not _think about it?" she protested, sniffling, eyes still teary and slightly puffy. "First I get tossed into a war, then I lose everyone I've ever cared about, then I get _kidnapped _by two ex-Akatsuki, then I _befriend _them, and one of them leaves me." She paused to rub agitatedly at her eyes. "And now you…"

He…didn't have much to say. "I'm sorry."

She punched him in the shoulder. Hard. "You damn well should be!"

"_Ow! _You bitch! What the hell was _that _for, yeah?"

She tugged away from him, kneeling on the cave floor in front of him as he held his injured shoulder, staring at her incredulously. "For being another Goddamned Sasuke!" she shouted, lips pulling back into a sneer. "You're just fucking _like _him! All of you! I can't fucking _escape _it, can I?"

"Sasuke?" Deidara yelled right back, pulling his hand away from his shoulder to curl it into a fist at his side. _"Sasuke? _Are you seriously fucking comparing me to that rat-bastard?"

"Shut up! He's not a rat-bastard!"

He scrambled to his feet and motioned at her angrily. "You just said—!"

"I know what I said! I said you're like him, not that he's some sort of—sort of—"

"Rat-bastard," Deidara finished, glaring holes through her. "Which is, you know, what he _is."_

"I said shut up! Don't insult Sasuke like that!" She kicked a rock his way angrily, but Deidara simply stepped out of the way of its trajectory.

"Of, of fucking course not! God forbid I insult the almighty _Sasuke!"_

"_Shut up!"_

"_No!" _The rage, the anger, the utter _jealousy _that there was no way Deidara could deny continuously pounded through him, making him clench his teeth and pop his jaw angrily, even though it hurt like hell to do so. He took three steps forward and then he was directly in front of her, and then her throat was in his hands.

She backed into the wall behind her, surprise evident in her wide eyes and her hands immediately reaching up to hold onto his, trying to pry them off.

He wasn't holding her tightly at all, but it was probably the shock value of his actions that had given her that visible electric jolt. He'd never been physical in a way to intentionally inflict harm on her in such a long time, and he could see her brain processing his actions just by the way her eyes flicked from his face to her surroundings.

The thumb on his left hand rubbed with an uncomfortable pressure across her windpipe. Not enough to hurt, but definitely enough to make her squirm. Which she did. "I am _not _Sasuke. I am _nothing _like him."

He felt her swallow.

"At this moment," she whispered back, slowly, dragging out her words, _"you are _exactly _like Sasuke."_

His grip on her neck tightened, and his lips twitched up into a deep, angry sneer. "You do this on purpose, yeah," he muttered harshly. "You do this to see my reaction—to get a rise out of me."

She shook her head. "I do it because it's true."

"It's _not_ true!" he shouted, momentarily squeezing her so tightly that she grabbed the front of his shirt in warning. "I could mention a dozen women I've encountered or slept with, and it wouldn't do a damn thing to you. Because you don't know them, yeah. But everyone and their mother know who Uchiha Sasuke is. And if he was anything like Itachi, then you're a damn stupid broad for getting involved with him."

She released his shirt to put both her hands on his biceps, holding him. "And if he wasn't?"

He pressed a hot, frantic kiss on her throat, exactly where his thumb had been, and he felt her fingers press into his skin. "…Just shut up."

"You never answered my question."

Another kiss, this time on the curve of her jaw, tongue flicking out to taste her skin. "And I don't need to." Just like that, the nervous, anxious tension in the air faded into something a little more nervous, something a little more uncertain, something a little more…familiar.

She made a noise that was something in between a groan of frustration and a moan of pleasure. "This is going to hurt, isn't it?"

He paused for a moment. The indications, the connotations, the mere _thought _behind that sentence had Deidara curling his toes. "Y—you a virgin or something?" He was surprised at the nervous squeak in his voice. Really. _How _old was he, now?

She snorted. "No. But if you haven't noticed, I can't see a bed for miles."

His toes promptly uncurled themselves. "If you're not going to go through with it, tell me to stop now, yeah. You have no _fucking _idea how frustrating—not to mention painful—it is when you just leave me like—"

Her deft little fingers unbuttoned his pants. "The floor, Deidara. The floor is going to be painful."

"You've been having quite a few mood swings today. Are you sure you—?"

She grabbed him by his collar, hauling him toward her with a sneer on her face. "I'm going to break both of your legs if you don't shut up. You have no idea how tired I am of talking to you." Her grip tightened and she leaned in toward him, lips barely feathering over his. "Now close your mouth and _fuck me _already."

Fair enough.

This sudden display of dominance she was showing in such a tense situation was making their cave an impromptu vacuum for whatever heat lingered outside, drawing it in and stuttering it around their bodies. And oh, but Deidara _loved _it.

He was dragged to the floor before he could blink, and Sakura was unbuttoning the second button, then the third, and then dragging down the zipper on his pants, the sounds of her actions giving him delicious shivers and aches in places that had ached for far, _far _too long. For how long had they been swimming in this sexual tension? Since Sakanamura, and those damn…something-shita drinks.

And in some way, he mused, arching into her touch when she brushed cool, small hands across his thigh, he was _glad _that he'd done what he'd done when he'd _done _it. If he hadn't pinned her against the window at that exact moment, if she hadn't taken his hand against her mouth and given him the most amazing rush he'd ever felt, if they hadn't tumbled onto the bed, if he hadn't brought her to orgasm by the touch of his bloodline limit, something that usually made other people wrinkle their nose or stare in disgust…

He didn't want to know where they'd be now.

He rolled her over onto her back, hovering over her again like a dark, ominous cloud. His hair fell in thick strands over his shoulders, and when he bent to unzip her shirt and press a kiss to her bare collarbone, that same blond hair pooled all around her. His mouth marked a burning path down, down, down her torso, following a straight line from her chest to her navel, him slowly unzipping her shirt in the process. He pushed it aside when it reached the bottom, and she pulled her arms out of the sleeves.

The plain, bland, ninja-issue bra—or "supporter," as all the female shinobi were wont to call it—was made short work of, and he set it aside, attention brought to her breasts, the pinkish areola, circling with his tongue and bringing it to a peak. And she was trying so, so hard not to be too loud underneath him, knees drawing up to curl around his body, hands clenching his old t-shirt long-before laid down beneath them.

He brought one hand underneath her to ground the both of them, and the other dragged listlessly to her neglected breast, the tongue and teeth and warm wetness there—more of a blessing now than ever, he realized—teasing her into another point.

He looked up at her face through his eyelashes, heavy-lidded and lazy. She was clenching her teeth, occasionally wincing, and he pulled away only enough so that he could speak without slurring. "Make noises, yeah."

She opened her mouth as if to reply, but it cut off into a strangled gasp when the mouth on her nipple bit down gently and then laved over her with a curl of its tongue.

"Not until you do," she finally managed, pressing the back of her head hard against the ground.

Feeling oddly confident and contributing it to the fact that he'd reduced one of the most powerful medic-nin still alive into a panting, gasping puddle beneath him, he pressed his thigh between her legs impatiently. No interruptions now; this was for real, and he was going to see it through. And he'd be _damned _if she didn't do the same.

He pressed his mouth to hers, and the kiss was sloppy and hurried, he admitted, but that didn't mean it wasn't nice. It was almost charming to have her lips glossed over with his own saliva, in some kinky, raunchy manner that Deidara barely knew he _possessed. _Then again, that night at Sakanamura, as well as his many other adventures as a nomadic S-class criminal-slash-artistic genius, had proved that he was a bit…uncontrollable when the moment called for such.

She returned his endeavors in kind, though his demeanor was very easily overtaking hers, and she was sauntering vaguely downward into this submissive role that Deidara adored so much.

He rather liked being the dominant one. Then again, he couldn't deny that her little "love taps" turned him on like nothing else at times.

The kiss turned open-mouthed somehow, and the only things involved were tongues and the occasional, brief brush of lips. He was panting before he knew he'd even _begun _to lose his tight grip on self-control, so he grabbed her by the jaw, thumbs pressed just in front of her ears and on the hinges, and deepened the kiss all that much more, his hips thrusting into her automatically, pulling her bottom lip between his teeth once, twice, and then slicking his tongue along the underside of her own, making her so blatantly dizzy that she couldn't quite keep up.

He jumped on a gasp and a very prominent throb from his erection when he realized that she'd managed to slip a hand between them, her fingers barely grazing the tip.

She paused when she noticed that he wasn't moving, and on a deep, stiff breath, he rested his forehead against hers.

"What—?" she began, worry evident in her tone, but he cut her off when he rocked against the flat expanse of her palm, telling her without _really _telling her that yes, he would like it if she continued down this tangent, and that no, he didn't want to give up his dominant role just yet.

She prompted him to lie on his back, and he did, propping himself up with his elbows planted firmly behind him.

The next thing he knew she was crawling in front of him, no shirt, no supporter, but medic skirt and skin-tight shorts beneath that still intact. Hell, she even still had her boots on.

And he was completely naked. _That _wasn't entirely fair.

Her right hand fisted around the base of his length, thumb idly tracing a vein for a moment.

He choked on a noise that would undoubtedly have been very, _very _embarrassing.

"Never done this before," she confessed, shrugging and giggling nervously. "So…go ahead and—?"

"_Go."_

So she did, pumping him once, watching his reaction, and then doing it again when she saw he was in favor of such actions. It took him a second to really process what the _hell _was just going on here and why the _hell _he wasn't waking up right about now, but when he did, that intense desire for release, sanctuary, something fucking _solid, _hit him like a wave of concrete. He bit down another one of those little noises.

He hadn't been watching her, because really, if he _did, _it'd all be over in less than five minutes, maybe ten minutes at the maximum. Because the mere glimpses he'd stolen of the act had been enough to have his head spinning and his senses reeling, scrambling for a hold on reality. And that reality just happened to be that the woman he'd slowly been developing a relationship with and lusting after for so, so long was actually fulfilling some sick fantasy he'd conjured up in the late hours of the night.

Something warm and wet and absolutely evil and _perfect _all at the same time made its grand appearance on the underside of his erection, and he just _had _to see what the hell she was doing.

And there he was. Bowled over again.

He felt rather than watched her slick the tip of her tongue on the underside, maddeningly along the slit and then she closed her mouth around him—whatever could fit, anyway—while one of her hands pumped and teased the rest of him.

His toes curled again and his fingers clenched into whatever was underneath him. He couldn't tell if it was still the shirt or if they'd rolled off onto the dirt floor. His mouth dropped open a bit, her name just barely skirting his lips on an inaudible whisper, and there was just the incredible feeling of her tongue and her lips and sometimes her teeth—dear God, her _teeth—_working to bring him to that terrifying edge. He was breathing heavier, now, chest heaving and shuddering, toes and fingers and muscles in his gut all clenching and tightening in unison, and—and—

She pulled away abruptly.

He _actually _cried out.

He opened his eyes, still gasping for breath, and saw her sit placidly back on her legs, wiping pre-cum from the corner of her mouth.

His erection twitched painfully. _Pleadingly. _He'd been so, so close to…to…

She crawled herself over to where his shirt lay crumpled and forgotten—so they _had _rolled off of it—and lay down on it, slipping off her boots and then her medic skirt and shorts in a matter of seconds.

He still couldn't find the capacity to move. He only stared.

She rubbed the back of her neck nervously. "All the way?"

"Oh, _fuck." _It was more of a statement than a complaint. He'd never even _thought _that she wanted to—

Before the moment was lost forever to wherever her little female mind wandered during what very well were the most sexually-charged times of his life, he wasted no time in recreating what had made her climax in the first place: a hand on her sex, a tongue playing with her, toying, teasing until she made one of those noises Deidara hadn't wanted to utter in the first place. Though he had to admit that they sounded entirely too endearing coming from her, and he tried every damn trick in the book he knew.

A flick of the tongue, his free hand occupying her inner thigh with hand-mouth kisses and the occasional lick, and he closed his eyes.

Presently, a soft, "Deidara," was heard, and his attention snapped up to her.

"Deidara," she repeated, arching and bending and twisting under his hands.

And it was _the _most heart-wrenching and exciting and _insane _moment of his life, because it was strange that coming from _her _mouth, with _these _specific connotations and _these _specific emotions, it was all that much more important.

He steadied himself over her, hands moving from her legs to her arms, running over her shoulders and up along her neck, leaving kisses and love-bites and small, almost unnoticeable red areas of wet skin. There was only one really important thing racing through his mind at this moment, besides the obvious one, of course, lying less-than-patiently beneath him.

And that was the matter of _protection. _Medical jutsu were convenient most of the time, but he only _wished _they were lucky enough to be graced with a jutsu to protect from pregnancy.

Something lightning-fast and briefly pleasing passed through his mind, something akin to a little boy with green eyes and dirty-blond hair and itty-bitty mouths on his itty-bitty hands, and _stop fucking thinking about Kisame when you're about to have sex with Sakura, God-fucking-damn it. _He'd been right, okay, so if Sakura got pregnant they _would _have a little baby with his mom's eyes and his dad's hair and his clan's bloodline trait and—

"Deidara?"

His erection throbbed at the cradle of her thighs, and he pushed in, and it was so warm and so tight and so wet and so _everything, _and _oh, _he'd wanted this for so _long _that it didn't _matter _if she got pregnant and had his kid and they moved to the countryside with a white picket fence and a small dog and a lawn that was always green, even in the winter, because _this was all that was important at this moment._

She reached up to clutch at his shoulder blades, fingernails digging into his skin almost painfully.

He pulled out halfway and pushed in again, eyes shut tight and trying not to clench his fingers into _her _skin. "I know it's not the best time to say this, but _fuck,_ Sakura, I really do think I love you, yeah."

"That's nice," she breathed, "now just _move."_

So he did. And he did. And he did again. And the more she panted and tried to meet his tempo but couldn't really do it and scraped her fingers and nails down his back and muttered his name and then _screamed _his name, the more his mind was both enthralled and extremely frightened of the prospect of _actually _impregnating Sakura. Sure, it was a nice thought, what with the whole "I'm always going to be a part of you, now, and that kid's a mix of the both of us, so shut the hell up and just kiss me already so we can live happily after," and all, but he had to think of this _logically. _He was an ex-Akatsuki and a missing-nin, and she was—

Well. She might have been dead to her country, hadn't she?

He slammed into her particularly hard, angling the thrust in such a way that she cried out something incoherent.

So who was to say that they _couldn't _settle down? Who was to say that they _couldn't _have that—

He repeated his previous action, and she released him in favor or holding onto the shirt beneath them for dear life.

—white picket fence lifestyle and—

Dear _fuck, _what was he _thinking? _Sex made him crazy; he needed to take due note of this.

Frustrated that she wasn't quite about to climax before him, he grunted and stuck his hand at the very top of her sex, where a tongue flicked her—

Her inner muscles clenched around him, pulling him in, deeper, tighter, _faster, _and everything was suddenly tunnel-vision for Deidara, even as he was half aware that she _was _coming before him, and even as he was half aware that oh, God, oh, _God, _he _really _loved this woman, and what the _fuck _was he going to _do _with himself and her after this? His fingers dug into her shoulders and he pounded into her, his breath labored and uneven and erratic until he _felt _it, _finally, _and he could _feel _the release, the tightly coiled pressure all dying in a snap and a warmth spreading from the tips of his cold fingertips to the tips of his numb toes, pooling in his belly. He stilled and let it dwindle out in a buzzing downward spiral of pleasure, and he finally let himself rest.

He was still panting quite hard when he felt Sakura reach up to play with his hair.

He opened his eyes and moved back a little bit to look at her. She looked…confused. Lost?

"Um…" she began, some cute blush dusting the edges of her cheeks. "So…what now?"

He pulled out of her, a sticky, messy…mess. And he grimaced. "…Oh."

She glanced at him, and then down at herself. "Oh, my God."

He licked his lips nervously.

"Deidara, you didn't pull out? Tell me you—"

Much too tired to do anything more than fall beside her in a defeated pile, he did exactly that. "Sorry."

A few moments later, she sighed and played with another strand of his hair, twirling it around her middle and index finger, entwining it, almost, _almost _tangling it. "Okay."

Later, he figured, closing his eyes for a short nap, still fluttering with ecstasy and amazement and sheer _emotion,_ they'd sort this all out.

O O O

Admittedly, Deidara hadn't _slept_ quite so much as mediated between a state of half-awareness and flaring arousal. His subconscious kept flitting eagerly back to prior events, playing out every scene in as vivid detail as he could remember, making him promptly tell his libido to shut the fuck _up _already and let him get some _rest. _He'd just had one of the hardest workouts he'd had in months, and all he wanted to do was lie down and sleep. Or maybe eat something. He couldn't decide whether he wanted to be lazy or to get up and be productive. It was quite the conundrum.

So it was with little regret that he sighed into Sakura's shoulder, having shifted so that he lay behind her during their "nap," before pushing himself to a crouch and then standing up.

Right. First order of business.

Pants.

…Where the hell _were _they?

He suddenly felt terribly self-conscious, what with standing there naked and all in front of Sakura, and he scrambled to find said article of clothing, stealing an occasional glance back at her to see if she was still sleeping.

He finally found them, crumpled in a defeated heap near where they were sleeping, and he pulled them on, zipping the zipper and buttoning each button.

Next came the shirt.

He found his undershirt easy enough, but he realized, albeit a bit belatedly, that Sakura was sleeping on his actual t-shirt.

He dismissed it and pulled back all of his hair, tying it up into a high ponytail. No bangs hung down to obscure his eye, no fancy 'do was involved. Just Deidara with a very messy mop of blond hair. He'd rather not bother with it at the moment.

Gathering up his black bags on the way, he left the cave, intent on finding some of that wonderful natural clay—and he was being completely sarcastic here—to mold into his own.

O O O

And then all hell broke loose.

Well, within Sakura, anyway. Because something like this could just _do _that to a person.

She'd woken up, quite grumpily, she might add, to the site she was seeing now: nothing. And normally, nothing would have been good. Nothing would have meant that nothing had gone awry during her slumber, and she had no mess to clean up afterward.

However, _this _nothing meant trouble. Heaps of it. Because nothing meant no Deidara, and no Deidara meant that the bastard had used her for sex and taken off.

Anger, frustration, hurt, and everything in between bubbled up into her throat, making her furrow her brow and punch the ground. A small crack formed, and she immediately told herself to keep her chakra in check.

Dutifully and quietly gathering her belongings, she got dressed, although begrudgingly, since she was absolutely dirty and sticky and—_ew. _Just ew. It was a horrible feeling. It really was.

The sunlight was her worst enemy as she stepped outside, squinting into the bright sunlight and using her hand as a visor. All around, she could still see nothing but canyon, rock, rock, canyon. And the occasional bush, but that hardly counted for anything.

It was mid-afternoon, she figured, and the sun was just barely listing to the west. Konoha was west, she figured, so she followed the droop of the sun. She was already planning out her route back to Konoha, following the sun in the day time until she reached familiar territory and sleeping when it went down, when a rather loud flapping noise sounded somewhere above her. A gust of wind that blew her hair all around hit her almost at the same time.

She whirled around, intent on kicking whoever's ass was _daring _to come near her, but her fists dropped and her lips curled into a sneer when she could clearly see Deidara, perched atop his clay bird—slightly discolored, granted—with a quizzical expression on his face. His surprisingly _clear _face. All of his hair was tied up, waving behind him like a thick yellow ribbon.

"What are you doing, yeah?" he called, hovering the bird a few feet above the ground. Every time it flapped, a new gust of wind rushed past Sakura, agitating her more by the second.

"Going _home!" _she shouted, switching the sneer for a disappointed frown. "You left me alone."

He blinked. "Was I not supposed to? I needed to get clay for the bird and the trip ahead of us, yeah."

"'Us'?" she asked, approaching the floating bird. When she got close enough to its left side to touch it, Deidara reached a hand out to her.

"What, you thought I was going to just leave you to travel all by your lonesome, yeah?" He scoffed and hauled her up, with her help, of course, where she took a seat behind him. This bird was significantly smaller than the one they'd traveled on with Kisame. "I have to at _least_ buy you breakfast."

She rolled her eyes and wrapped her arms around his middle, face pressed into his back when the bird took flight, soaring up into the air and then skimming the tops of the craggy rocks and cliffs.

"Also," he said, lowering his voice to just the right decibel. The wind was roaring around them, but she could make out what he was saying just fine. Their close proximity assured that. "we need to take a shower. And get you some…things, yeah."

"'Things'?" she questioned, pulling her face from him. "What 'things'?"

"Well…pills," he tried to clarify, and from what she could see of his slightly turned face, he was blushing in a rather faint manner. But it might just have been the wind against his cheeks. "To…you know…make sure you don't get pregnant."

"Like a morning-after pill?" she asked, suddenly feeling awfully bashful, herself.

"Yeah. Like a morning-after pill," he muttered, turning back to the sky ahead of them.

She stared at the back of his neck in disbelief for a moment, keeping out of the way of his whipping ponytail. "Deidara, are you…? Do you really want me to…_have _your kid or something?"

"_No!" _he immediately answered, and when he jerked, the bird did, too. Sakura damn near fell off, and she _would _have if she hadn't grabbed his arm at the same time he bunched his hand around a fistful of her shirt.

"Try being a little more _careful," _she said, feeling far too shaken to argue.

He cleared his throat, though he urged her to slide one thigh around his waist, which she did. He kept one hand firmly planted just above her knee.

"Look," he started, fingers twitching against her. "The _last _thing I want is a kid, got it? I'm still not through being a kid myself."

"You're twenty-nine."

"So?"

"You're going through your mid-life crisis, aren't you?"

He sputtered at this, and the bird did a dodgy little hop through the air. "Of course I'm not! That's stupid, yeah. I never understood how people could get depressed about getting older."

She pinched his side, a little piece of skin there. "You _should _be worrying about kids. And starting a family. You know, all those things that you're _entitled _to in life, not this 'running around and putting your life in danger every ten seconds' business."

He sighed insufferably, veering the bird lazily to the left, toward some flat area in between the mountains. It looked like a valley town. "It sounds to me like _you _want to have the kid, yeah."

She snorted. "Yeah, okay. What a nightmare _that _would be."

He sniffed indignantly and straightened. "I'll have you know that our child would inherit a very proud bloodline, yeah."

"Our dentist bills would also skyrocket."

The bird began a steep descent toward a strip of farmland, and Sakura held on to Deidara for all she was worth. When it alighted, coming to a graceful halt, he jumped down first before helping her, as well.

The bird plodded off into the cornfield, situating itself in the tall stalks. It was nearly invisible.

He headed straight for the center of the town, dragging her along by her sleeve. It was a sleepy and small town, much like they'd seen millions of times before, and it was slightly difficult to locate a grocery store. But when they did, the vendor had just what they needed in stock.

The inn was significantly less of a chore to locate, it being the tallest building around. Deidara still had some leftover money, and he paid for a room for the both of them, holding the small black shopping bag on one arm.

It was all a blur from there, actually. Sakura took a shower first, taking the box into the privacy of the bathroom with her. Inside the box was a typical thin sleeve housing two pills, round and white and each smaller than her pinky nail.

She turned the box over in her hand. It was barely four or five hours after they'd had sex, and the limit was about seventy-two hours. So she was safe.

Take one now; take one again in twelve hours. Simple, painless, and effective. Well, mostly.

"'Emergency contraceptive,'" she read aloud, peeling away the plastic from the sleeve to drop one little pill into her hand. She swallowed it dry, and placed the sleeve back in the box, and the box back in the bag. She'd have to tell Deidara to remind her to take the last one later.

Only slightly worrying about the consequences of whatever it was that she and Deidara had suddenly and unexpectedly consecrated, she turned on the shower faucet and stepped inside.

The water was warm and refreshing, and it washed every bit of grime from her body. Even the soap wasn't so bad for a cheap little inn like this. She'd seen better shampoo and conditioner, but beggars most certainly couldn't be choosers.

Sex with an ex-Akatsuki, an S-class criminal, a missing-nin, Deidara. Sasori's partner and the almost-killer of Gaara.

She wondered why she felt so undeniably clean, and it had nothing to do with the soap.


	17. Q is for Quandary

Found

**Found**

**Q is for Quandary**

O O O

A morning indeed, though good it most certainly was not.

Deidara awoke quite unceremoniously to the sound of vehement gagging sounds. And then retching, hacking, and gasping. When he realized that it was not, in fact, himself that was throwing up the fish from the other night, he managed to peek inside the only small bathroom in the room.

And there was Sakura, bent over the toilet, looking for all rights and purposes like…well…_shit._

Oh, for God's sake. It was like a bad romance novel. Morning sickness this soon was preposterous.

"…You okay?" he asked, for lack of any better words of consolation.

She looked more pissed that he'd _dared _show his face than anything.

"Does it _look _like I'm okay?"

"No, not really."

"Alright, then." And with that she put a shaky hand to her forehead, breathing heavily.

He opened the bathroom door all the way and leaned against the frame, waiting for her to ask for assistance. He wasn't going to offer if she wasn't going to ask. Hell, he was walking on eggshells as it was, and he'd barely woken up.

She trudged to the sink—a whole half a step though it was—in order to thoroughly rinse her mouth, and then proceed to wash her face as well. She took a hair band from her pocket and tied up that bright pink mop of hers.

"What happened?" he asked, moving to allow her to pass by him.

She collapsed on the bed, successfully hogging every blanket and sheet available. Not that she hadn't done so last night, anyway.

"It was probably the pill," she mumbled into a pillow. "Side-effect."

"I can get you some ginger ale from the store or something," he offered, but she shook her head. So he sat down beside her, resting his elbows on his knees and his chin in his hands.

And that was how they spent their morning.

O O O

Lunch.

It was perfect.

…Well, he _thought _it would be perfect, anyway.

See, there were quite a few things that Deidara and Sakura had to talk about, especially since the girl's eventual departure from him, his life, and everything in between was approaching them at an alarming rate. And it wasn't just the sex, either, though he had to admit that the dopamine inside him had danced and twirled and given him the most amazing rush he'd felt in a long time the other night. It was mostly the time they'd spent together, however short it had seemed, and how she had managed to attach herself to him like a particularly attractive, benign tumor.

And he realized that comparing Sakura to a tumor was slightly low-brow, but he doubted that it mattered at this point.

She fondled her biscuit in a mock-fondly manner, sighing.

"Something wrong?" he asked, and she shot him a glare. Probably wasn't the best thing to ask, in retrospect.

She straightened on a soft grunt and brought the glass of orange juice in front of her to her lips.

He watched her absently before she set it down and cleared her throat.

"So…"

"My sentiments exactly, yeah." Uncaring for social niceties at this moment in time, he propped his elbow on the table and his chin in his hand. "Are you still planning on going back to Konoha?"

There was a second in which he was certain she would say no, would sigh again and roll her eyes to look up at the ceiling, would admit that there really _wasn't _anything there for her anymore and that she really _did _want to just settle down somewhere with him. Or hell, even without him. It didn't matter, as long as she didn't go back to Konoha.

"I decided that…I will," she replied, biting the inside her cheek in an agitating manner. "I don't want to just abandon it. I _won't _just abandon it."

He took a microscopic amount of solace in her loyalty. So if he asked her to pursue a long-distance relationship, would she agree? Would she stay faithful?

Probably not. And he wouldn't ask her to.

So he accepted the fact that Konoha was currently his number one enemy, the biggest factor in determining whether or not Sakura would stay with him. It was a delicately laid trap, waiting to suck her in and never let her back out.

He shoved away his plate and leaned into his chair, folding his arms across his stomach. "Did you take that pill, yeah?"

"Of course."

He didn't feel like interpreting the small, disappointed twinge in his gut. "Good."

And she didn't have to tell him that she was ready to go for him to leave the bill unpaid and escape out the front door.

…And straight into the cornfields, running, almost laughing at the preposterousness of the situation, figuring that they should enjoy the time they had together while they could. Deidara's bird was still waiting patiently, and when Deidara came near it uncovered itself, shivering off the stray bits of grass that had fallen over it overnight.

They were on the bird and off into the sky in less than a minute, and Deidara took off in a southwesterly direction.

O O O

Flying on a bird for six hours straight, it seemed, was largely similar to sailing a small boat across a choppy, angry, cold ocean. When Sakura awoke from previously being sleeping less-than-soundly against Deidara's less-than-warm back, she was very highly aware that she was wet and freezing.

"What's going on?" she asked Deidara's armpit, because Deidara's face was currently unavailable.

"What do you mean, yeah?" he asked, and he sounded quite worse for the wear. Sakura would have suggested they switch places if she knew how to fly this monstrous clay bird of his.

"I mean why am I wet? _Soaking _wet?"

He scoffed condescendingly, and Sakura scowled. "We're flying through some low clouds, if you haven't noticed. Clouds are _wet, _Sakura."

She poked him hard in that condescending armpit of his. "Well then why don't we fly _below _these low clouds?"

"Because if we do, then we'll be spotted."

"And?"

"And we'll be shot down."

She was about to retort with a snooty, "What is this, a _war?" _but oh, wait. Yes, it was. Instead she held him around his waist all that much tighter. "Why? Is this restricted land or something?"

"No," he answered, skillfully maneuvering the bird as softly as possible—which wasn't very soft, mind you, and Sakura's grasp was damn near wrenched away from him—around a looming cliff. "But it's something similar to Konoha's red-light district. Except about ten times more dangerous."

"Do tell," she muttered, burying her face in between his shoulder blades.

He took a deep breath, as though preparing for a long, never-ending tale. "The place we're flying above now is the mid-south of the Land of Earth—"

"—you know, I've always found that name to be redundant—"

"—shut up, yeah—and it used to be a thriving trade route. They called it Brick Route."

"Why brick?"

"Because the rocks were naturally arranged in such a way that it looked like bricks. Now are you going to be quiet and let me finish, or am I going to have to give you a play-by-play of Earth Country's history and geography?" he snapped.

Sakura rolled her eyes.

"_Anyway," _he emphasized, and she supposed he would have been glaring at her if she was facing him. "The reason Brick Route regressed into a haven for bandits is because it was once so busy. It runs from Earth Country, arches through the border or Rain and Grass, and then makes a wide loop through Fire and Wind before coming back. So it was ideal for trading within those countries."

"Uh-huh." She was inwardly astounded at the extent of knowledge Deidara held within his head. She didn't see him as a history buff.

"But _because _it was alive and bustling, thieves and robbers were abundant. Eventually, you'd never even think to walk _near _the Brick Route without several escorts, yeah."

"Is it still used today?"

"Yes, but not as much. Usually only for large, commercial loads that are forced to travel inland, yeah. Mostly things like raw materials and cheap cloth. Nobody transports anything of value on that road anymore. Hell, nobody even _walks _on it anymore, yeah."

"How much longer will we be flying over it?"

"Almost the whole way, yeah. I can see bits and pieces of it from up here, so we'll follow it until it hits Grass and Rain's dividing line. From there, we can just follow the border to Fire, and then you're home free."

"So, hypothetically," Sakura drawled, "if we were to be forced to land or get _close _to land, what would our chance of survival—"

A flaming arrow sailing past her right ear abruptly cut her off.

"Hold on!" was the only warning Deidara gave her before the bird dipped downward at a horrifying ninety-degree angle, and wind and bits of rocks picked up by the wind assaulted whatever was exposed of Sakura's arms and legs. She wondered how Deidara's face was faring.

Just before she was sure the bird was going to hit the ground and splatter like cookie dough on a tile floor, Deidara jerked at something and they were suddenly going right through a thin gorge, knocking several bandits positioned with bows and arrows and the occasional crossbow. When Sakura happened to glance behind her, she caught an eyeful of several _hundred _bandits all following them closely on horseback, bullback, and even boarback. It was frightening in and of itself, but it didn't help that they were all just after _them. _The two of them were both out of practice and out of weapons. Deidara had used almost all of his makeshift clay reserves on the bird, and though he had a few kunai in his pockets, how long would that last? Sakura still had her chakra, but without a weapon to wield, the odds didn't look good…

"What are we going to do?" she asked frantically, and Deidara grunted as he plunged the bird down into the yawning opening of a cave.

"Keep your head down," he instructed sternly, and he sailed the bird, stiff and streamlined for faster flight, through stalactites and stalagmites, expertly flying through narrow passages and low-ceilinged rooms.

They'd been flying through that cave for a while, now, and as the roar of the hoard of bandits following them had ebbed, Deidara had slowed the bird.

"Is there even an end to this?" Sakura asked worriedly, pressing her cheek to his back and taking solace in the steady, firm heartbeat she could hear.

"To what, yeah? The cave or the attacks?"

"Well, both, but I was talking about the cave specifically."

He groaned almost unnoticeably. "I don't know. Let's hope so."

She felt like punching him in the back, then, but the proverbial light at the end of the tunnel alerted her to salvation.

"I guess there is one after all," he speculated in that amused, cocky tone of his, and he patted her thigh reassuringly. "Just do me a favor and keep quiet once we get out there. I don't think they know where the exit to this is, and hopefully they won't hear us, yeah."

"Okay."

Roughly thirty heads lined the exit, then, and it was far too late for Deidara to steer the bird away. It was simply going to fast, and the passage was simply too narrow. He did try his damndest, though, and he cursed and he yelled and he grunted and strained, tugging the bird as hard as he could sideways.

But the bird, quite confused on the what, _exactly, _the fuck it was that his master wanted him to do, decided at that moment to completely defy all logic and perform the most ridiculous barrel roll Sakura had ever had the privilege to be a part of. She felt her legs slipping and her hands were ripping Deidara's shirt, and in the end, she ended up falling.

She heard the distant curse of Deidara before she hit the floor, and the "thump" of his body hitting the floor beside her made cringe.

The bird ended up smashing against a nearby cave wall, alternately breaking into a thousand pieces and splattering unpleasantly. The moisture of the clouds had softened up the clay a bit, leaving both Deidara and Sakura utterly coated with the stuff.

Before Sakura had the presence of mind to get up and _run, _damn it, a kunai tied to a stick was pressed against her throat.

She swallowed.

Okay, so it was a spear. She liked kunai-tied-to-a-stick better.

"What are you, cavemen?" she scoffed, sneering up at the man towering over her.

The spear was shoved harder against her throat, drawing blood. She decided right then to shut her mouth.

"Don't move," one of the thieves ordered, his face almost completely covered with tattered black rags. Three other thieves flanked her, digging through her pockets, tearing her clothes, retrieving a small amount of money, a few stray shuriken, and the receipt for those horrid pills.

The thief handed it to the man with the spear, who read it over and glanced from Sakura to Deidara and back, apparently assessing the situation. Which wasn't good. Now that he knew who she and Deidara were to each other, he could very well use that against them. If she could have played it off like Deidara was kidnapping her, which he _was, _but that was besides the point, then they perhaps _both _could live through it.

She saw Deidara out of the corner of his eye, and when he caught her gaze, saw what was happening, his chakra pulsed furiously.

The black-clad thief with the kunai-on-a-stick pocketed the receipt and limited amount of change in her pockets. Meanwhile, other thieves were checking Deidara's pockets. Three men had him restrained while three more tore out scraps of paper, a small scroll that he assumedly used for stray notes, and more small change.

They took his hands and tied them up, but not before staring in wonder at the mouths there.

"What the hell kind of shit is this?" one of the thieves asked with a disgusted sneer on his face. "You fucking freak."

"It's a bloodline trait," another thief answered, looking equally repulsed. "A stupid one, at that."

Sakura glanced quickly at Deidara, turning her whole head toward him, and just as she caught the rage pouring over his face, someone else grabbed her by the cheeks and forced her head the other way.

Someone began to tie up her arms, shoving her wrists tightly together and making her wince as they rolled her onto her stomach.

"So what the fuck do you use these for?" she heard someone ask, referring to Deidara's hands. She knew how protective and proud he was of his clan's trait, and she waited for the shadow of a storm.

It came when she heard him spit out a sharp, "Fuck you."

And then she felt a hard kick to her side, and she gasped.

The thieves laughed. "I don't think your girlfriend likes your foul mouth, Pretty Boy."

If Sakura could've seen Deidara's face, she supposed it wouldn't have been contorted with confusion and frustration. But these weren't just run-of-the-mill bandits or rouge criminals. These were organized, smart, to an extent, and far more dangerous than she'd anticipated. It was like an entire government of convicts.

Not that she wasn't traveling with one of the most dangerous men on the planet, but that was _beside _the fucking point, damn it.

"He's pretty enough for you, eh, Jun?" one of the thieves remarked, earning a round of laughter from them all. "He's got a woman's face."

"An _ugly _woman's face."

"Wonder if he's got the tits of one?"

Thankfully, Deidara kept his mouth shut, and Sakura wondered if it was for her sake or if he was simply too angry to speak.

She heard a muffled sound and then the telltale gasp and groan of Deidara in pain. She heard him roll onto the floor and start hacking up nothing, cursing under his breath.

"He's got a cock; that's for sure. Jun, you still want him?"

"Hell no!"

"Leave him alone!" Sakura shouted against the floor, unable to do much else. Every time she tried to roll onto her back, someone kept her down.

Someone or something seized her by the back of the shirt, hauling her to stand. She scowled into the face of a rather unattractive bandit with a jagged, angry scar running from the left corner of his mouth to his temple.

He grimaced when she growled.

"You've a face only a mother could love," he said, pushing her back roughly. She stumbled over a rock and fell straight onto her back.

Luckily, she'd landed right beside Deidara, who was still recovering from the blow to his groin. When Sakura was rolled to her stomach again, he glanced at her surreptitiously.

"Deidara, are you—"

A foot was shoving the side of her face into the dirt before she could finish, and she winced. She could still see Deidara, who looked about ready to cry or explode. Whichever came first.

And then both of them were being dragged to their feet. Deidara's legs were still wobbly from the pain, but he was faring. And for the first time, Sakura noticed how red he was.

"You're bleeding," he said quietly, and Sakura realized that she was. The rocks had cut her cheek, and she could feel something wet and warm, but gradually cooling, running down her face and neck.

"Come on, then," the thieves shouted, and they shoved the two of them forward.

Even unexpected to _Sakura, _the area around them exploded in an uproar of clay pieces, smoke, and dirt.

"_Run!" _was all Deidara said to Sakura, and she heeded his words. Chakra infused in her feet, she ran up the left wall, onto the ceiling and smashed it in. Rocks and fragments of said cave ceiling fell, trapping whatever was left of the thieves in the downpour of earth.

She dearly, dearly hoped that Deidara had managed to escape it. As she made her leave out of the cave, she saw that he had, but a similarly disappointing sight met her.

About fifteen more men were struggling to detain Deidara, who was struggling for all he was worth. Ten men were on Sakura before she could blink.

She readied a foot to the nearest thief's face, but a syringe made its grand appearance stuck in her calf, the holder of said needle grunting as he injected whatever liquid into her.

Angry and feeling defeated, she managed to kick him away, but not before she realized what the drug was. Probably some form of opium laced with another drug, and her focus was quickly slipping. Things were becoming blurred and muddled at a fast rate, and though she wouldn't pass out, she felt like she was underwater.

Deidara was shouting first at her and then the thieves, and she briefly saw him kick some bandit ass with just his feet and the occasional head-butt before he was finally apprehended.

The rest was largely a vague haze to her, though she remembered being tossed into the back of a hay-lined cart with an unconscious Deidara and a few thieves wielding what looked like broadswords.

The cart started moving, and Sakura saw delightful little stars everywhere.

For some strange reason, she was incredibly happy with her life at that moment, and the dull buzz of opium raged joyously through her system. She couldn't focus her chakra if she wanted to, though she wondered why she even felt the need to at the moment.

She giggled.


	18. R is for Ramshackle

Found

**Found**

**R is for Ramshackle**

O O O

His head hurt, his groin hurt, his left shoulder hurt, his _ego _hurt… Deidara wondered what else he could add to the list.

The thieves had transported him—them?—from that demolished cave to some sort of base of operations consisting of a beat up, abandoned village. And although this was all fine and dandy, because he did _not _want to stay outside in the open air with _more _thieves, he had to wonder just what the hell they _wanted _with he and Sakura. They'd robbed them and humiliated them, and though they could have done worse—like rape Sakura, his mind supplied, or rape _him, _another desperate, squeaky portion of his brain offered—they honestly didn't have to go as far as they did.

Couldn't they have just killed them? Not that he would have let them—he and Sakura had been moments away from precious escape anyway. And to _these _fumbling retards, even if the both of them were sorely out of practice, he and Sakura were still like Goddamn magicians.

And Sakura, she was resourceful. Himself, not so much, but _Sakura. _Once she got over the drug pounding in her veins, she'd be able to devise a plan.

And he…

Well, he could blow stuff up. Which he'd be happy to do. Because as it turned out, he wasn't so well-off when it came to tactical planning.

Hell, just look at what had happened with Sakura. He hadn't even _planned _to meet up with Kisame, either, but he'd improvised.

Plan Capture Medic-nin, Heal Wounds, Keep as Personal Medic-nin, Maybe Sorta Kinda Revive a Small Portion of What Could _Possibly _Be Called Akatsuki had fallen to a horrible pile of fail. It had now, though not quite as regretfully as he maybe should have considered it, become plan Capture Medic-nin, Get an Erection at _Every Possible Moment, _Have Sex with Medic-nin, Dump Kisame off, Develop Feelings for Medic-nin, Break Medic-nin's Heart and Vice Versa.

And it was coming along _fabulously. _In the same way a mass genocide would come along.

Grunting, Deidara finally managed to roll onto his other side, the one that wasn't shooting pain up his body at every given second. He was hog-tied, to his dismay, which they must have done while he was unconscious, and he had no idea where he was. All he knew was that he had recently regained his senses, and now he was lying in a dark, mostly empty building with a dirt floor, which probably therefore stripped it of its "building" title, because fuck, didn't buildings usually have carpet? Or at least _tile? _Linoleum? Concrete, then! He'd take just about anything at this point, as long as it wasn't the _dirt._

Dear Jesus, he _was _going soft in his old age.

Inwardly he cursed his early midlife crisis, while outwardly he called for Sakura.

And there was, as expected, no answer.

"Come on," he groaned, simultaneously spitting some straw out of his mouth. "I don't have time for games, yeah."

No answer.

He lifted his head and peered around, and with his eyes adjusted to the dark, he could very clearly see that he was in some sort of small, round hut. And it was empty.

Well, fuck.

So now he was alone in a ramshackle old hut, he was in pain, he was _hog-tied, _and he had not the slightest idea where Sakura was.

_He didn't know where Sakura was._

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, _fuck." _

And he had no clay left.

"Hopeless fucking fuck-headed fuck of a fucking fucked up fuck-situation. …Fuck!"

And someone was opening the door to the hut, shedding an unwarrantedly bright sliver of light across Deidara's heaving chest.

He tried to even his erratic breathing, stopped struggling, and feigned unconsciousness, even as heavy footsteps and the distinct smell of a rather large, rather _sweaty _man bent in front of him.

He looked him right in the face, and Deidara was able to peer at him from behind a curtain of blond eyelashes. The man was never the wiser of his sleeping façade.

Except when he hauled Deidara up by the hair and Deidara yelped out another sharp obscenity. After using "fuck" so much, he'd damn near wasted his entire lexicon of impacting swear words, which was a very sad state of affairs. And, maybe to keep his mind off of the obvious, he tried to think of a situation where he could slide "cunt" right up in there.

The man said not a word, though he cut the rope binding Deidara's ankles to his wrists and dragged the poor artist behind him in the dirt. Said poor artist tried valiantly not to trip. Because whenever he tripped, his hair was tugged on, and he could _feel _the strands being plucked out one by one. And as much as his hair had irritated him the past couple of months, he'd still rather keep it all intact, thanks very much.

He was tossed unceremoniously into the back of what looked like some sort of wagon-wheelbarrow hybrid, wherein several assumed bandits chewed tobacco and spat it out and grunted things better left unintelligible.

He said not a word, because he was far too busy taking in the surroundings as the wagon-wheelbarrow—the wheelwagon? No, the wagonbarrow sounded better—continued on its merry way through the decrepit town. He memorized every rock, every tattered hut, every fork in the dusty road, imprinting a mental map into his brain. He only hoped that said mental map would very well _stay put._

They reached their destination soon enough, what looked to be an abandoned prison.

The same sweaty, pig-like man that had dragged him _into _the wagonbarrow abruptly dragged his sorry ass right back out, and this time Deidara managed to keep his step up fine enough to not trip over every crag in the ground.

And in they went onto the front porch, through the rusty front door, traveling back, back, back into the bowels of what had _appeared_ to be a small jailhouse on the outside. In all actuality, it was a _massive _penitentiary carved into the side of a _mountain _inside. Dozens of cells lined the rock walls, and the air steadily grew cooler the further they descended.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity of attempting to memorize every twist and turn, the man opened up a cell and tossed Deidara in. He stumbled inside, banging his shoulder unnecessarily hard against the opposite rock wall. The man closed and locked the cell, and as he walked away with key in hand, Deidara felt his sanity slowly begin to slip away.

His head was throbbing, he was filthy from dirty and dried clay and _hay _that kept getting into _unpleasant _places, and he was alone. Utterly alone, and he had not the slightest idea where Sakura could be. Hell, she could be dead, even if he severely doubted this. That girl was tough as nails.

Then again, his suddenly overactive imagination supplied, there were far worse things than death.

Sighing, he slid down the wall, landing gently on his rump. He extended one leg before him and curled the other to his chest.

He could manage little more than a mumble. "This sucks, yeah."

For fuck's good sake, they were probably…probably _raping_ her right now. Or doing something similarly cliché. Or maybe they were shoving bamboo chutes under her nails.

He shivered.

They could be pulling her hair out. Or slowly dripping hot wax on her skin. Or breaking each toe one by one!

Or! _Or! _Or they could be raping her _while _shoving bamboo chutes under her nails, pulling her hair out, dripping hot wax onto her, and breaking her toes!

Oh, the horror. Even if he was exaggerating, because what the fuck. She was probably just locked up somewhere, like him, and he was a stupid-ass for thinking otherwise.

The opium, though. The opium was a very real threat. Earth Country had quite a problem with it, what with constant trade and loose security, and he knew the addictive qualities. The dose they'd given Sakura had obviously been opium laced with some other focus-degrading drug, something relatively harmless when used all by its lonesome, he figured, but if they gave her any more, then he'd have a real problem on his hands. Withdrawals weren't fun; they really, really weren't.

He knocked the back of his skull against the wall behind him and stared up at the ceiling. What the hell had he gotten them into? If only he'd been flying the bird higher up. If only he hadn't insisted they leave in such a rush. If only he'd begged Kisame to stay. Hell, if only he hadn't kidnapped her in the first place.

…No, no, that wasn't right. He was glad he had. They'd been through the wringer more than a few times, and despite all that, he'd never regret their meeting.

He heard shifting from the cell directly beside his, even sharing adjacent bars, and holy shit. He hadn't even noticed the person's chakra presence.

But now that he did, now that he actually studied it, it held a familiar feel. Soft at the edges but filled with a certain spark that drove him absolutely mad in the best way possible.

He scrambled to the shared set of bars, peering around the iron at the heart-stoppingly recognizable lump in the nearest corner.

A head of frayed, dirty, pink hair rose slowly when he flared his chakra. He couldn't very well use his arms, and there was no way in hell he could fit a foot that far through, so he'd wake her this way.

"Sakura!"

Calling her name helped too, he supposed. But there was nothing like an electric wave of chakra in the morning.

"_Sakura!"_

Seriously, how stupid were these bandits? Why would they put them in cells right beside each other? It was like they _wanted _them to break out.

Finally, she pushed herself to a seated position. She wasn't up.

"Oh, Deidara. Hi."

He furrowed his brow. "'Hi'? All you can say is _'hi'?" _

She glanced to the left for a second. "Well…yes? Are you alright?"

He sighed long and deep and rested his forehead against the bars, which were incredibly cold. "I am now."

"How cute."

He wasn't sure whether she was being sarcastic or not, but he growled anyway. "Just shut up. Just shut up and kiss me before I kill you."

And she did so, and the bars were thin enough so that they could barely touch, and without hands to use as leverage, Deidara was barely able to slip his tongue in for a quick taste. Not that she tasted like Heaven on Earth or anything, which reminded him, they really needed toothbrushes, but the closeness he felt acted delightfully in lieu of these downfalls.

She was able to fit her hands and arms, to a certain point, through the bars to touch his cheeks and his neck and then his chest, and she asked him if he was hurt anywhere, had they harmed him, if his head felt alright as he pressed kiss after kiss over every inch of her lips. They were quick pecks, barely a smidgen of the relief he felt, but it was enough, and he was eventually able to wrestle away the urge to tell her just how much he loved her. Again. Which so wasn't true, because he so totally _didn't. _

"Can you break out—" he started, but she cut him off when she busted the iron of those shared bars with a chakra-laden kick. The dust disturbed on the floor made him sneeze.

"Bless you. Now come here."

He pulled himself over to her side, and when he was able to collapse fully on top of her and bury his dirty nose into her dirty neck, it felt like heaven all over again. His shoulder was pressing into her arm, probably quite uncomfortably, but she would just have to deal with it, because this was all a new sort of experience for him.

She tugged the ropes off him, which looked easy from _her _angle.

"Where are you hurt?" she asked again, and he could feel the cool sensation of her readying her chakra. He loved it when she healed him. He'd never admit it aloud, but he did. Really.

"Head, yeah," he mumbled into her, not even bothering to move. She soothed the bruise there and the irritations caused by pulling his hair and he relaxed significantly.

"Anywhere else?"

"My—uh." He abruptly choked on his words. It was never this hard when he was being _purposefully _vulgar.

"Your what? Your butt?"

"No. It's my—"

"Oh, your—"

"Yeah."

"…Again?"

"Hey. Watch it."

She snorted, rolled her eyes, and prompted him to lay back. Which he did.

He remembered, as she unbuckled his pants and slid them past his hips, a time when he hadn't trusted her with this. He was sure she'd prevent any babies in his future. And now…

Well, now he could sit back and enjoy it.

She shot him a death glare. "Now's really not the time for an erection, Deidara."

"I wasn't _gonna," _he defended, frowning at her. "Oh ye of little faith."

She slipped a hand under his shorts, and there it was. Skin on skin. "I just don't trust your libido. At _all."_

"As well you shouldn't, yeah. Because neither do I."

He was back to relatively new status in no time, and that was when she busted out the _front _of the cell, enabling them to make their quick escape.

They walked through the stone halls, because sweet Jesus, it was a fucking _maze_ in there.

Sakura scratched the back of her head. "Do you know how to get out of here?"

"I tried. I really did."

She scoffed. "And look where it got us."

He peered around a corner, and nothing but another long, winding, _cold _hallway met his gaze. "I didn't see _you _trying."

"I was inebriated!" she defended, but he didn't miss the guilty tone lying under her words. "It wasn't _my _fault if I couldn't focus."

He settled for continuing along their northerly route, even if it wasn't _necessarily _north. For all he knew they could have been traveling west, but it didn't matter at that time, because they were going "forward" instead of "backward," "left," or "right," and "forward" was the way out.

Vaguely, he recalled some of his academy days. "Never Endanger Shrimpy Whales," his teacher had told him, which was designed to help him remember his directions. There were various other versions, like "No Eagles Should Wail" and "Never Elope Sad Writers," but none was very convincing, and most got downright silly.

"Alright, I'm officially lost," Sakura admitted, pushing her filthy hair out of her filthy face.

"I've been lost for the past half hour, yeah," he complained, slumping his shoulders and shoving his hands into his pockets. "Actually, for the past day. I hate this place. I hate this _country. _Why do you think I left in the first place?"

"Don't get snippy with _me. _It's not my fault we're in this."

"Well, it's not _mine, _if that's what you're insinuating, yeah."

She scoffed. "Fine, it's no one's fault, then. So what do we do now?"

"We keep walking," Deidara said simply, and he moved forward as if he had not a care in the world. Which was complete bullshit, but he willed himself to believe it in order to keep up his placid, collected front.

"What if we never get out? What if we starve to death? Or die of thirst?"

"Oh, come on. This place can't be _that _big."

But it was.

In fact, as far as Deidara was concerned, it was a fucking _labyrinth. _He half expected the Minotaur to start chasing them around.

Eventually, neither of them could figure out whether they'd traveled south last or not, and whether the left passage was _actually _west. And "Never Endanger Shrimpy Whales" did absolutely nothing for them at this point.

And there was a moment in that time when Deidara realized just how dangerous Sakura was when she was frustrated.

"You'd better be able to run, because we're not exactly going to go out quietly." Her fist was through the nearest wall. And then the next. And the next, and the next, until finally, _thankfully, _Deidara recognized the shattered remains of the front desk.

Sakura was exhausted. She leaned heavily against a nearby wall, closing her eyes.

"Let's rest for a minute," she said, and Deidara agreed.

Their resting, however, consisted not so much of _resting _as it did sliding down the nearest wall and to the floor together, heads pressed together, and with Deidara taking her left hand firmly in his own.

"Holy shit," he breathed, staring up at the poorly lit ceiling.

"Yeah," she said, though her voice was more of an echo of his than something solid.

He turned his head half toward her, and he pulled their joined hands into his own lap. "You okay? I never got to ask, yeah. What did they do to you?"

She laughed gently, then, letting her head droop against first her chest and then falling to his shoulder. "Probably not much worse than they did to you."

"Well, all they did to me was pull my hair and shove me around a bit."

"Mm, same here. Then again, I can't remember half of it. Though I suppose that's a good thing."

"Any idea what they might have wanted, yeah?"

She chortled bitterly. "Company? Hell, I don't know. Maybe we were just in the wrong place at the wrong time."

"Sure, but then why not kill us directly after? Or let us go? It's not adding up that they'd want to keep us around--"

He should have noticed it. _She _should have noticed it. They _both _should have noticed it. But they didn't, and because they hadn't, the splinter of an arrow being set and then released was almost deafening.

And they should have been _faster. _This was what shinobi specialized in, quick reflexes and even quicker wits. But they were tired, they both were so, so tired, and they thought they were safe, and maybe just thinking something wasn't _quite_ enough lately.

Our of sheer reflex, both he and Sakura hopped up, quite intent on hauling ass out of harm's way, but Sakura fell sideways suddenly, and Deidara almost didn't catch her. But because he had, maybe, _maybe _that was what ignited the spark of adrenaline, maybe, _maybe _that was what prompted him to trip the closest thief so that he was flat on his ass, and then infuse chakra into a stomp that was crushing the man's skull against the rock floor. A mixture of dark-colored blood and pinkish tissue haloed the corpse's head.

Two more thieves started backing out of the door, readying more arrows, steadying more swords, holding more daggers between fingers. They were a talented bunch, these guys—he had to give them at least that.

But he was thirty times the prowess any ten men here, and they'd taken advantage of their streak of dumb luck earlier by capturing he and Sakura.

Now, however…

Now Deidara was an Akatsuki again. Now Deidara was fighting for equal parts pleasure and survival. Now Deidara was parading a smile that defied whatever anguish and anxiety was making his ribcage feel like it was about to cave in.

Now he was tossing the girl with an arrow in her side over his shoulder and stepping onto the dead man's back.

"I'd love to stay and find out just what, exactly, you had in mind," he spoke, and the place where the Akatsuki ring had once been on his finger felt starkly exposed, "but I'm afraid you all just sicken me far too much, yeah."

He managed to sprint past the multitude of thieves crowding at the door, a number that had increased alarmingly in the past few moments, no more than a blur in their peripheral vision.

Once in the open air, he ran as fast as his legs would carry him, which was pretty damn fast, he had to say so himself. The thieves were like fucking cockroaches in a colony, though; he'd pass one group only to dart straight through another.

And Sakura was bleeding onto his shoulder, making him feel sick. It was like history repeating itself, almost, and he could barely, barely make out Tobi's face and voice. It had been so long since he'd been hit by a tragedy like this. He didn't want it happening again.

The vaguely medically informed portion of his brain—this was a _small,_ small part, as Deidara was an artist, _not_ a doctor—was hoping against all things that Sakura was merely suffering a flesh wound. It was a possibility that she'd just collapsed from exhaustion—things like arrows to the ribs and crushing walls could do that to a person—or that she'd gone into shock from the pain.

He hoped it was exhaustion.

Speaking of which, his calves were shrieking at him to stop, but he promptly told them to fuck off by speeding up. There were no more men at his tail, as far as he could tell, but that didn't mean he was going to quit his path anytime soon.

For good measure, however, he did hang a sharp right when he came upon a very small river. He continued along the bank until he spotted a tree that doubled over across the thin body of water, allowing perfect access to the other side.

He took this wonderful opportunity, and he was across at the opposite bank in a matter of moments. Slick pebbles and grainy mud met his sandals, and twice he almost slipped, but the prospect of hiding out in that foxhole just ahead was far too tempting.

He slowed to a stop, and what he had once thought to be a foxhole was actually a rather large cave. One of the many reasons why he hated Earth Country. There were fucking caves _everywhere. _And in the caves, horrid creatures that often tasted like crap.

He hated camping.

He set Sakura down, though, absently aware of the change of scenery, panting heavily. A field mouse dared cross his vision, and he stepped on it with his heel angrily.

Finally able to rest and _think _for a moment, he pressed his forehead, sweaty and hot, against Sakura's much cooler upper arm. He allowed only a momentary cry of frustration before he set to trying to rouse Sakura.

She was still breathing, though a little slower and a little deeper, and for this he was massively, massively grateful.

"This can't go on," he said in a sort of tired, whiny voice. "You've gotta go home, Sakura. You can't keep scaring me like this, yeah."

Even if it _was_ the first time she'd ever really been in a life-threatening situation around him.

"As much as I hate to say it," he admitted, "we really can't--"

"Shut _up."_

He would have fallen full upon her if an arrow wasn't currently sticking out of her side. "Can you heal yourself?"

She didn't even try to sit up, though she was gritting her teeth and occasionally wincing. Tears pricked the corner of her eyes. _"Fuck _this _hurts."_

"Yeah, I realize that, but can you?"

"Probably not completely—ah, shit, fucking bandits—but enough to stop the bleeding." She opened her eyes, then, and when she did the tears fell, and she locked her gaze with his.

He felt like whimpering. "I wish they would have shot me instead." He pulled at his hair in aggravation. "I wish I could have seen that coming before, yeah."

"And I wish you'd shut the fuck up and help me get this arrow out. Can you do that, Deidara?"

He nodded.

"Do you remember when I pulled that kunai out of your neck a while back?" she asked, and he nodded again. "Good," she continued. "It's like that, except as I heal around it, you pull out the arrow. That way I don't lose as much blood."

"Not that it's going to make a difference." He rubbed his blood-soaked shoulder, frowning.

"Are you hurt, too?"

"No, that's yours."

"Oh."

And with that he took a firm grip on the arrow, she put both green-lit hands to her afflicted side, and she pulled in one quick stroke and she gasped but healed it up anyway.

He grimaced and tossed the arrow aside, and she sighed.

"So where are we?" she asked.

"A foxhole," he said, flicking away an ant, where it promptly attempted to trudge out of the field mouse's goopy puddle of blood. "But we're not at that colony, and we're safe, and that's all that matters."

She snorted. "I hate your country. Have I told you that recently?"

"Join the club. We've still got a ways to go, but from what I can remember, everything's pretty industrialized from here on out, yeah. Mostly mining towns and cities built around oil refineries. Did I ever tell you that the Land of Earth is very ecologically rich?"

"I should start calling you Professor Deidara. You sound like my geography instructor."

"Bah." He laid himself down beside her, flicking away yet _another _ant. Except this time, there was chakra in the flick, so the ant was sent careening off against the back wall of the cave-slash-foxhole. At least there were no dangerous animals inhabiting the place.

"It's true. It's endearing, though."

"It damn well better be. I was going to be a historian when I was a kid. I actually started taking some courses for it."

"So _that's _where it came from. I was under the impression that you were just worldly."

"You're such a damn nag. Anyway, as you can see, that plan fell to hell."

Sakura was silent for a moment, as if contemplating the complexities of Professor Deidara, head of the National Historian Society in the Land of Earth and founder of Iwagakure's very first natural history museum.

Finally, she sighed. "I can see a connection between art and history, so it's not all that difficult to wrap my head around."

"Don't think too much into it, yeah. It's complicated." He folded his arms under his chin. "Bad memories and wrong turns all the way through."

She shrugged, but he noticed that she winced directly afterwards. "We've all made mistakes. Some are just more prominent than others, I guess."

"How _noble _of you."

"You're getting my sympathy, and you're damn lucky you're even getting that."

"That's not _all _I'm getting…"

"What was that, you little—?"

"I said I hope you aren't particularly fond of animals, yeah."

"Why?"

He flicked away another ant, this time disconnecting its thorax from its abdomen on accident. "Because the death toll is up to one field mouse and three ants."

It was then that she noticed the bloodied body of the field mouse, and the revulsion on her face was tangible. "Deidara, you sick little man!"

He grinned. "Deidara? Who is this Deidara you speak of, yeah? Is there someone else I should know of, Keiko?"

The revulsion faded into annoyance. "Don't play games with me."

He flicked an ant at her.

"_Deidara!"_

"Makoto, yeah. My name's Makoto."


	19. S is for Spartan

Found

**Found**

**S is for Spartan**

O O O

"Okay—"

Sakura was abruptly cut off.

"Deidara, you can—"

And again.

"It's _enou—"_

Once more.

Forcefully, slightly disdainfully, but most certainly agitatedly, she pushed Deidara off of her.

Deidara stared at her like she'd just kicked his puppy, gutted it, flayed it, and then laid it out to dry.

Sakura glared right back. "Deidara, okay, I get it. Enough."

He wiped some of his _own _saliva from the corner of her lips with his thumb. "You can't blame me, yeah. You had me damn scared."

"I know, and I'd probably be doing the same in such a situation, but we have to—"

Either to piss her off or just because he felt like it, Deidara stopped her short with another impromptu kiss. And Sakura dearly hoped it was the latter, because she was in far too much pain to deal with his antics.

"You're acting like a love-drunk fool," she remarked when he finally pulled away.

"Rehearsing," he mumbled faintly into her neck, and she rolled out from under him before things went a little too far. They were in a _foxhole, _for God's sake.

She'd managed to heal herself further in the time they'd taken to rest, and the pain in her side was significantly less now, she noticed thankfully, although it wasn't quite dulled to a tolerable level. And now that Deidara was stressing their aliases again, she could only guess that they were about to travel into more densely populated areas.

"Where to next?" she asked, yawning and stretching out the kinks in her back. She couldn't _wait_ to sleep on a regular bed again.

He rolled his eyes. "There's a large village somewhere southeast of here. From there we can recover for a couple of days. You know, see the sights, yeah."

"We don't have _time_ to see the sights."

"In a hurry to get home?" he huffed, suddenly in a rather sour mood. Sakura made a promise to herself that if he started getting cravings for ice cream and potato chips and pickles dipped in yogurt, she was making him take a pregnancy test. "What happened to wanting to stay with me?" he finished rather glumly.

"I'm not going to fight with you," she responded noncommittally, shrugging. "Not when we only have a few more days together anyway."

The air about them seemed to darken considerably, with Deidara shutting up and all, and Sakura felt mildly guilty. _Mildly._

Until he flicked another ant at her.

"God_damn _it, Deidara! Enough with the fucking ants already!"

"Get used to it, _Keiko," _he huffed, smirking from his spot in the dirt. "You'll be seeing more and more of these fuckers until somewhere around the border of Grass, yeah." He crushed a line of ants with a thumb, an index, middle, ring, and then pinky finger for emphasis. "Trust me on that one."

"Oh, wonderful."

"Yeah. Just wait till you see the crows. Fucking _enormous."_

"You know what? I don't want to talk about this." Sakura stood, brushing the dirt off of her backside to the best of her abilities. Her clothes were utterly tattered again, her hair a hopeless mess, she hadn't brushed her teeth in _days, _and she just _knew _she stank, even if she tried to push that thought far from her mind. "There wouldn't happen to be any hot springs around here, would there?"

"You wouldn't happen to have an extra 40,000 yen, would you?" he shot back, mocking her tone in a high-pitched, whiny one of his own. He dropped the tone almost immediately, though, when it was apparent that Sakura was three syllables away from burying him alive. "Because any hot springs around here have already been turned into resorts, and we don't have that kind of money, yeah." He flicked yet _another _ant, but Sakura deflected it this time, scowling. "And I'm not willing to steal _that much money _for just one night."

He stood up eventually, apparently bored with the ants now scurrying frantically around their fallen comrades, occasionally carrying some dead, curled carcasses off to the colony.

"Okay, so how are we going to get there? Walk?" she asked in exasperation.

"Do you have a better idea? I'm all out of clay, and I doubt anybody will be coming along this route in a wagon any time soon."

"…You have to be kidding me."

He waved a hand and began to walk. "We're out of harm's way, at least. I'm sure the bandits have given up on us, yeah."

Sakura started down the nearest dirt road, but Deidara led her down a different one. She followed his directions without question. This _was _his homeland, after all, and she didn't think she'd ever been this far from Konoha's borders. "I don't see why they captured us in the first place, really."

"Monetary value?" he tried.

"Do we _look _like rich silk traders?"

"Not necessarily, yeah."

"Well, then what?"

He shrugged out of his over-shirt, slinging it over his shoulder. From time to time, a bitter November wind cooled the sweat forming on their foreheads and arms, but those breezes were very few and far between.

"The only other thing I can think of," he mused, pointing his face skyward and squinting into the sun, "is that they thought they could make slaves of us. I saw some bandits that didn't look the type, so to speak."

Sakura scoffed.

"Do _you _have any other explanation, yeah?"

"No."

He gave her a smug sidelong glance.

"Fine, let's just drop it, then. It happened, it's over, there's nothing we can do to change it. It is what it is." To further extend her point, Sakura brushed off her hands. "We're finished with the subject."

He wrapped his shirt around his neck, protecting it from the still-harsh sun beating down on them. Sakura could only guess that winter came far too late in this portion of Earth Country.

"In any case," she forced out, keeping her gaze forward, desperate to break the uneasy silence that was wont to fall over them as of late, "where and when can you get more clay?"

He sighed. "Earth Country's pretty dry, if you haven't noticed, so we might not be able to find some clay for a while. I'm sure the market has gallons of it, so we might just have to foot it until we get there."

"Beautiful."

"I don't know, the monster crows and ant infestations are kind of off-putting."

"Shut up, Deidara."

"It's _Makoto. _How many times do I have to tell you, yeah?"

Sakura threw her hands up in frustration, managing to hold back a wince when a prick of pain stung her side in warning. "I give up! I give up, Makoto. Where's Kenji? I want him back."

Deidara surprised her by picking her up, then, tossing her over his shoulder much like he'd done to his shirt. She got a very pleasant view of his butt, though she yelped in protest and pounded against his back anyway. "Deidara, what the _fu--?"_

"Ma-ko-to," he pronounced, punctuating each syllable with a step. "I'll be found out if you keep calling me Deidara. I use to live here, you know."

She opened her mouth to bite back something sharp and witty and likely a devastating blow to his over-inflated ego, but realizing that he had a point, she settled for staring at the curve of his back.

Thoughtfully, she poked it. He barely flinched.

Not ticklish, then.

"So what's the point of carrying me?" she asked, trying to glare at the back of his head and failing. Her neck didn't turn that far.

"I'm serious. You can't call me Deidara."

"Yeah, because you _really _blend into the crowd as you are."

He shook his head. "For the people who even still _remember _me, they haven't seen me since before I joined Akatsuki. I was just a kid. I look way different, yeah."

"Still, there's a chance of someone recognizing you," she said, trying to worm her way from his grasp. He gave her no room for any such worming, and she slumped dejectedly against the hard jut of his shoulder. "You'd might as well go all out with this. Cut your hair, maybe?"

"_Absolutely _not," he said, and it sounded like she'd just asked him to throw himself over a cliff or something. Then again, she supposed, cutting one's hair and throwing oneself over a cliff most likely equated to the same end in Deidara's mind.

"Dye it, then. Something normal. Black or a dark brown."

He shook his head and finally let her to her feet. "Not necessary. Nobody's going to recognize me."

O O O

"Deidara, is that you?"

"No, I'm Makoto."

"Oh. My mistake. You look just like a boy I used to know."

And that, unfortunately, was how Deidara found himself in this rather horrible predicament. He combed his fingers time and time again through his hair, now a lousy, sad, degenerate brown-black in color. It was left to fall around his shoulders, parted straight down the middle, making him hot and uncomfortable.

He chanced a glance at Sakura, who looked equally unhappy. She'd been forced to dye her hair, as well, and it turned out to be a light brownish-blonde color. It would have been pretty, actually, but it just looked _odd _on her. Especially with her hair tied back like that and her bangs parted much like his had been.

In fact, they'd damn near changed their whole wardrobes. He'd stolen a choice few pieces of clothing, though Sakura didn't have to know that, and they were now dressed in them, this drab, dominantly grey native garb. He still wore his mesh shirt and tank top underneath the baggy grey tent of a t-shirt he wore now, but that was more for the familiarity of it. With his scope removed and safe in his pocket, his ponytail down and an unattractive dent left in his hair because of it, and oversized clothing draping over his frame, he didn't quite feel like Deidara anymore.

Sakura's clothes were too big, as well, and he took solace in this fact. At least he wasn't the _only _one walking around looking like a jackass. She'd finally permanently done away with her khaki medic skirt and loud red zip-up shirt, but she'd kept the old tunic she'd been forced to wear since the beginning of their journey. Maybe she'd left it on for sentimental value. Who knew?

Well, he figured, at least they blended with the masses now.

…Yes, okay, but at what price?

A part of Deidara went into a mini panic-attack. The price of his hair, _that _was at what price! His beautiful, shiny, well-kempt, virgin hair! It was never going to be the same again—he just knew it. Not after this dye job, at least. He'd poisoned his amazing hair with vile, filthy chemicals. Why couldn't he have just worn a wig?

And _worst _of all about this predicament was: "I look like a girl," he complained moodily, crossing his arms over his chest. "A very frumpy girl. Too homely and bookish."

"You _always _look like a girl, Makoto. And what's wrong with homely and bookish?"

"_I look like a housewife! _That's what's wrong with it! I can't pull off the nerdy-but-sexy-in-that-innocent-way look, yeah!"

"Look," she whispered, glaring up at him with those sharp green eyes, but the effect was largely lost when she didn't have pretty pink hair framing her pretty little face. "We can wash this out once we get out of Earth Country. Or at least into the boonies and out of this particular market."

"_All _of Earth Country is the boonies, if you haven't noticed. And this market is the size of a small city."

"Whatever," she huffed, suddenly in a rather sour mood. She _had_ to have been PMSing or something. Which, at least, meant that she wasn't pregnant, and he was overjoyed at the prospect of being unmarried and childless for a brief thirty seconds before the ache of loneliness set in.

Goddamn, he was _old. _He almost expected his joints to start creaking or something.

Pouting, he stared at Sakura. "I'm not old," he muttered, and she didn't even register that he'd said anything. Or maybe she was ignoring him.

Luckily, they managed to locate a stand that sold copious amounts of clay that made the mouths on Deidara's hands water, and while Sakura distracted the vendors with a flash of thigh and a high-pitched giggle, Deidara swiped enough of the wonderful molding material to last him months.

"Hey, you've been robbed!" Deidara shouted, appearing in front of the two star-struck vendors. He pointed in a random direction. "That guy just ran off with your clay, yeah!"

One of the two men were off while the one left behind brooded moodily. Especially so when Deidara took Sakura's hand in his own and kissed her left ring finger.

Yes, that was a purposeful move.

Yes, he derived great pleasure when the vendor huffed and turned a blind eye.

_Yes, _that was his stomach growling and ruining the moment.

Sakura laughed and pulled away, instead wrapping an arm around his waist. Likewise, Deidara draped an arm about her shoulders, finger idly picking at the cottony fabric of her ugly t-shirt.

"Let's find some food," she suggested, nodding toward a vegetable stand in front of them.

"That's it," Deidara said, grinning, "I've corrupted you."

They each had a very delicious avocado in their hands by the end of that adventure, and the vegetable vendor was none the wiser. Deidara bit the skin of his before beginning to painstakingly peel it, getting green gunk all over is hands. It was no small task.

But he reaped the fruit of his labors soon enough, and it was, quite possibly, the most delicious thing he'd ever tasted. It was a dull sort of flavor, probably could have used some salt, but it was _fresh _and _soft _and room-temperature even in the freak heat they were experiencing.

As soon as she peeled her avocado halfway, Sakura enjoyed a similar feast, and from the time they tore off the rinds to the time they sucked on the huge bulb in the center, neither said a word.

Sakura surveyed her clean seed for a moment before tossing it into the dirt. "You know, I'd like to have an avocado tree one day."

"Mm," Deidara conceded before throwing his seed aside, as well. "The thieves took all of my money, so I was forced to remedy this problem, yeah."

"I _really _hope we don't run into them again," Sakura mumbled, making a rather discontented face. "I'm still not completely rested from that fiasco." She rubbed her once-injured side for emphasis.

"We won't run into them," Deidara reassured sternly. "We might see them again if we go out onto a main road, but I doubt they'd come this far into the town. It's too dangerous, even for them." He shook his head. "How many people here do you think they've robbed?"

Seemingly satisfied, Sakura shoved her hands into her pockets. "We need money," she reiterated, and Deidara smirked, producing a handful of foreign coins from his own pocket.

Sakura choked on nothing. "Deidara, where did you _get _all that?"

He feigned a look of honest hurt as he shoved the coins back into his pocket. "What, you think I'd stop at stealing clay and avocados?" He draped an arm around her shoulder to tug her side against him, and she grunted. "I may not be a part of _that _anymore, but I'm still a criminal, yeah." And she didn't particularly seem to enjoy his toothy grin.

They walked on like that for a while, Deidara's arm around her shoulders, Sakura's arm presently coming up to wrap hesitantly around his waist like last time, his long, brown-black hair being ruffled by the wind and her short brown-blonde hair barely quivering in its firm ponytail. They were just an ordinary couple, now, strolling down the market and away from the hustle and bustle, trying to find a place to stay for the night that was in a quiet, preferably empty district.

And, in the grand scheme of things, who were they really? Were they the ex-Akatsuki member and the Hokage's apprentice, or were they just two people from the Land of Earth who had met unexpectedly and developed a bond? They were without identity in their new appearance, and where before people had always turned their heads to catch a wary second glance, barely anyone even _looked _at them. Being typical and unrecognizable was more of a blessing than Deidara had ever anticipated.

The afternoon sun was brutal, though, especially with his hair a darker shade and pooling around his shoulders. He was starting to sweat, so to save Sakura from the horrors of male perspiration, he pulled away from her shoulders and grabbed her hand instead.

And…it was funny how he'd forgotten just how different he really was. The mouth on his palm licked Sakura's fingers appreciatively, and Sakura only shot him a weary sidelong glare.

She made him forget about all of his inconsistencies; or maybe she didn't make him forget, but she made them seem so insignificant in comparison to the rest of the world. His bloodline limit may have been unpleasant and unattractive in several senses, but who would care when they still didn't know what lay in the deepest parts of the ocean? Who was to care when they still hadn't figured out what sleeping giants hid behind the sky? Deidara was an oddity, sure, but it meant nothing. The unknown was far more interesting than that already held as the truth.

He was happy for the first time in a long time, he realized for what had to be the millionth time since he'd met her, even amidst all the chaos. She made him happy where only his art had done that before. She wasn't art, not in the most humble of terms, but maybe…just _maybe…_she was something incomparable to a mere concept. She was a human life, a system of veins and bloods and organs, a microcosm of the actual world: several different parts unconsciously working together for a greater cause, with the occasional bastard parasite, germ, or bacteria coming along to fuck everything up.

And Deidara was the parasite. The _Akatsuki _was the Earth's malevolent tumor, spreading and infecting wherever it touched.

But the world, he reminded himself, had healed itself, fixed itself, restored itself. The war was raging—probably not as strongly now as it had been at the start of their "journey"—and that too would ebb to a dull memory, a section of a history book, something academy children would have to study and take tests on in the future.

He wondered if he'd even be in the history books. And he wondered if they'd mention Sakura, the girl with the criminal's heart clutched ambiguously to her breast.

And then he scoffed at his own stupidity. This was _really _no time to act sentimental.

A hotel sign caught Deidara's attention presently, and he stopped in front of it. Sakura looked up at him quizzically.

"I think this looks good," he said, leading her inside the hotel. "Our funds are a little limited, yeah."

"It's fine," she consented, and she didn't pull her hand away. Her thumb rubbed over the top of his hand, even as he ordered a room—the cheapest room available, one bed, about half the size of a studio apartment—and led her into the elevator.

"When can we wash out this dye? It makes me uncomfortable," he lied, pressing the button that would take them to the third floor.

"I'm not sure. I was really only worried about it when we passed through that market, but I'm starting to think we should keep it for a while. At least until we get out of Earth Country."

He scoffed and pulled his hand away from her in order to cross his arms. "Do you really think it's necessary? Nobody's going to recognize me out here."

The elevator dinged its decent upwards, slightly upsetting its two occupant's stomachs as it did so.

"That's what you said _last _time," she reminded him.

"Yes, but after we get out of this hotel, we'll be flying the rest of the way, yeah."

She eyed him suspiciously, the expression on her face turning from cynical to annoyed to defeated. "Fine. Fine. I just hope we don't get caught."

"We won't," he reassured, and he followed this up by the most charming grin he could muster. To his surprise, she smiled back, a small upward tilt of the corners of her lips that rounded her cheeks and accentuated the pink tinge of her face.

He wanted so very, very badly to kiss her then, and shooing away the thought that _gee, _this sure happened _a lot, _he took her chin in his hand and tilted her face up.

Her smile faded when she immediately closed her eyes and leaned in, and something decidedly sexual and yet utterly innocent all at the same time tickled his stomach. His lips were on hers after a moment, him sliding his eyes shut, hand moving from her chin to the base of her neck, brushing his thumb just under the curve of her jaw. The lips on his hand pressed ever-so-slightly against her skin, but if she protested such an action, she didn't outwardly show it.

Quite on the contrary, she seemed all in favor of this, because she leaned her head a little away from Deidara's hand, giving it more access than necessary to the soft skin of her neck.

He slipped a tongue just passed her lips at the same time his other tongue tapped at the flesh of her neck, inciting goose-bumps in its wake. His other hand grabbed her roughly by the hip, pressing her flush against him.

The kiss stuttered, and he took this time to take a deep breath, eyes still closed, as Sakura urged the both of them against the wall. The elevator had reached their floor, but the doors were closing now. Deidara couldn't quite care less, though, and he imagined Sakura was in a similar state of mind.

"I'm going to miss this," she muttered right before Deidara continued their disrupted kiss, and he just groaned his answer into her, even as she shifted her hips in such a way that the mouth on his hand closed its lips around her skin. The other mouth nipped insistently at her pants, bunching around the thickest part of her thigh.

He leaned into the wall of the elevator behind him, his lower back curving perfectly around the railing there. It was mostly silent in the elevator, with the exception of the occasional ding of the elevator. He pressed every button, from one to ten, on the button pad, and the elevator began its journey upwards once more.

She was so soft, so warm, so flawlessly pressed into his body. He wanted her so badly, and in more ways than one.

He felt her fingers play with the waistband of his pants.

He never wanted her to look at another man again. She'd never need to, in any case, because she'd be happy with him, traveling with him, staying home on the off-days, cooking him delicious meals and watering the garden outside. He'd sculpt in his studio and she'd happily read a book, and they'd give the dog a bath together. And their son could cling to his swing-set outside, climb on the jungle-gym and build castles in his sandbox. He'd help his dad make pretty little pieces of art to sell, and he'd hand his mom the wooden stirring spoon. And when the time came, he'd press a little ear to his mom's rounded belly, and he'd say to his little sister, safe and warm and happy, and Deidara would…

Deidara would name him Katsurou.

Sakura would…she'd probably like that. They'd have the best life together, simple, easy, _beautiful. _Life would be beautiful.

He opened his eyes halfway, couldn't help himself, because after thinking so thoroughly through these life plans involving the woman before him, he couldn't _not _open his eyes and affirm that _yes, _she was still here.

Sandy brown hair met his eyes, though, tied back into a ponytail, and unflattering grey clothing shrugged around this person's body.

It felt like a bucket of cold water had been poured down his spine. This wasn't—

Wait. Yes, it was.

He broke off the kiss slowly, not wanting her to think anything was wrong, but feeling sick and jittery. It was a shock to even _think _that he was doing this with anyone but Sakura, planning out a life involving anyone but Sakura, naming a child with _anyone _but _Sakura._

She smiled again, shyly, and laughed a little. "We really should stop doing that."

He smiled back, though it was half-hearted. "Not at long as I can help it, yeah."

Finally, the elevator reached their floor, and they stepped out.

It didn't matter if it was just a thirty-second walk from here to their room. Deidara took her by the hand anyway.


	20. T is for Thief

**Found**

**T is for Thief**

O O O

There were five very crucial things along their journey that Sakura had come to realize were truths. She had counted them all out in her head, and it had only taken her one night's stay in a small Earth Country hotel to do it.

One: The war was slowly but surely coming to a halt. It might even have been in its last stages. Not that she'd been able to observe it much, but the steady slowing of information trickling to her, the overall calmness settled in the people as they traveled further west, it was all pointing to this end.

Two: Konoha and all of her friends therein thought her to be dead. If they didn't, she would have seen or heard from them by now. She was soon to prove them wrong.

Three: All of her preconceived notions of villains, heroes, evil, good, and the line dividing these things had been crushed in the palm of one particularly animated antihero's hand. That hand had also eaten said notions, combined them with clay, made a pretty butterfly out of it, let the butterfly go, and then exploded it into a thousand pieces.

Four: She had been wearing this pair of underwear for way too long, washed or not.

Five: She hadn't thought she could ever fall in love again, as cliché as it sounded. Not after Sasuke, the war, so many, many deaths, or any of these other things orbiting her life like a deathly plague. But she had anyway, she knew, she could _feel _it, pervading every piece of her body and slipping silently under her senses. It had hit her at the last minute, this epiphany, and now it really was too late.

It didn't matter if she was in love with Deidara; it didn't matter if she would have done anything for him, that she had completely disregarded the fact that he'd killed, because hadn't she, also? It didn't matter that she'd completely disregarded the fact that he was once a part of the most dangerous organization in the world, because weren't there those who had feared her above all else, as well? It didn't matter that she'd completely disregarded the fact that he'd been bordering on the edge of psychosis, wallowing dangerously in the pools of mania, flirting all too seductively with the advances of insanity, because hadn't there been a time when she'd done the exact same thing?

People had the ability to change, and the human race was an infinitesimally driven species. Anything was possible, _nothing _was out of reach, and everything a person knew could turn around for the better or for the worst in the span of a minute.

And possibly the greatest thing about the human race is that they held the innate ability to adapt and assimilate.

Deidara had changed, and this much Sakura was certain of. She'd changed, too, and from what she could tell, Kisame had. They'd all benefited immensely from their meeting, no matter how rocky and rough first impressions had been.

He wasn't just the enemy anymore, and he wasn't just a killer. She would never be able to forgive him for what he had done, what she figured he'd never do again in the future, but that didn't mean that he didn't deserve another chance. They were mistakes on his part. Granted, they were terrible mistakes, but he'd suffered from them; he'd been delivered atonement, and she saw every day the impact of his past. It showed on his face, through his actions, through the way he spoke to her, other people, through the way he took her by the hand and smiled.

She was no one to judge him, but she'd be damned if she couldn't love him. There were dangers to being a shinobi—there were dangers to _every _career choice, as a matter of fact; there were abuses in every industry, and there was just no getting away from it—and this was one of them.

He was a good person. She wouldn't have fallen so hard for him if he wasn't, and that was why this situation was killing her. Her entire chest felt like it was going to implode on itself, because the time was looming nearer and nearer to when she'd have to say goodbye to him, and this time it was for good.

It had been difficult with Kisame, but she hadn't felt _nearly _the same for him as what she felt for Deidara. Parting with Deidara would be like…parting with a piece of her own life. If he wasn't with her, it felt odd: too quiet, too empty.

And that was why, when Deidara emerged from the bathroom, dressed, clean, his hair still damp from his warm shower, and brushing his teeth, Sakura burst into tears.

He blinked, obviously confused—she probably would be too—and tried to talk around the toothbrush and foam that lined his mouth. "What's wrong?" When she didn't answer, he pulled the toothbrush from his mouth and touched her shoulder with his free hand. "Are you okay?"

She shook her head, tried to speak through her sobbing fit, and failed. She settled for clutching to his shirt, burying her face in his chest, her entire body shaking violently. Poor Deidara, poor her, poor everything. Here her world was again, breaking down and deteriorating for the second or third time around.

He pulled away from her only long enough to speed-rinse his mouth and toss his toothbrush in the sink, but he was back on the bed with her in less than a second, where she immediately crawled onto his lap like a small, lost child. And that was exactly what she was. She wasn't a virgin before Deidara, but she'd only actually been in love once before him, and that was with Sasuke. And look where that left her: Sasuke was dead, but even before that, he'd rejected and abandoned her. Now _she_ was abandoning Deidara.

Actually, it was more of a mutual abandonment, but they were still _leaving _each other nonetheless.

He didn't talk, but she calmed down eventually, some three minutes or so later. He just stayed with rubbing her back, petting her head, threading fingers through the pink hair that she'd gained after washing out the dye.

When she did speak, he was focused only on her, and it made her heart absolutely ache. "I don't want to leave you."

The smile he gave her could very well have given her a strong case of the shakes again. He was so sad in that fleeting second, so helpless, but the expression melted away as soon as it had come. It changed instead to a slight frown, and he furrowed his brow. "You shouldn't make it so hard."

"Make it hard?" she demanded, squeaky-voiced and feeling significantly unthreatening. "What are you talking about?"

He pulled her full on top of him, and she found herself kissing him again, largely subconsciously. She was always finding herself _doing _things around him, new things, never rediscovering something or just reviewing.

When he broke the kiss, slowly, reluctantly, he brushed his lips over her temple. "I'm so glad I found you, Sakura."

"_I _found _you," _she corrected, leaning into him, closing her eyes, crying again, but quietly this time. He was a new experience in himself.

The moment when he pressed his smile against her cheek was, quite possibly, the most horrible and wonderful moment of Sakura's life. Horrible for the things she was about to live through, wonderful for the things she'd _already _lived through.

"I love being found," he said, almost inaudibly, and she couldn't help but kiss him again.

It was funny, in retrospect, how one event led to another, especially in direct relation to Sakura's life. There was a touch of irony to it, too. A war had dropped love into Sakura's lap, and alternately, this love had left her the bittersweet taste in her mouth that the war should have given her. Full circle, one complete cycle, everything was coming together so painfully, and Sakura almost thought she would really start believing in this cruel, infamous thing called fate.

So she wasn't surprised that tearful, almost-love confessions had led into unhurried touches, silent but heartfelt movements, skin on skin, and there was nothing shameful or guilty about it. For the first time, Sakura felt like she was at peace, like this was somewhere she was supposed to be. She wasn't doing someone a favor or acting out of impulse, she was doing this because she wanted to, they _both _wanted to, because it was, in essence, the ultimate form of connection, bonding, and it was as prolific a course of action in Sakura's mind as marrying him would be.

Deidara kept the mouths on his hands closed. He didn't use them to suck, nibble, or anything of the sort. He used his own mouth, though, pressing it to her own, to her neck, marking a path down her torso with soft kisses that barely tickled her. And when he was inside her, filling her, breathing heavily but holding back on the panting, Sakura couldn't _not _look at him, freshly washed blond hair falling in curtains over his shoulders. Even his eyelashes seemed endearing, whisper-soft against his cheeks, fluttering when a prick of pleasure made him wince. He caught her gaze once, and she looked away, embarrassed for some reason that he'd seen her watching him, but he'd taken her chin gently in one hand while the other steadied himself, palm planted flat against the mattress and his fingers curling into the sheets.

He'd kissed her and she came first, not long after that, a gentle shuddering, drawing her knees around his torso and arching slightly into him. He followed soon, and his hand dropped from her chin to ball into a fist on the bed, just above her head. He gritted his teeth and leaned his forehead heavily against her collarbone, and when all was said and done, he didn't pull off or out of her. They didn't fall asleep, but they lay like that, Sakura watching the ceiling fan spin slowly and Deidara watching the pulse in her neck thrum.

It would be a long time before they got up, cleaned themselves, and packed their belongings to leave. Deidara had "bought" a map along with a few other choice essentials, and he laid out said map for Sakura to see. He pointed out that they were just barely edging along the border of Grass, and also the place where they would be forced to part.

"I can take you as far as Grass's Southeastern border, but I can't step foot in Fire, yeah. It's too dangerous for me. It's been a long time, but I'm still recognized, especially in Fire and Sand."

She nodded and watched him ruefully as he rolled the map and replaced it in his pack. He handed Sakura her pack, stuffed to the brim with an extra change of clothes, spare kunai and shuriken, soap, shampoo and conditioner, and various other items. In addition to this, they'd both strapped all those small, hidden weapons to their bodies—kunai in the boots, shuriken at their hips, poison senbon strapped inside a protective wrap along their forearms. Deidara had a few months' supply of clay, and Sakura had restocked most of the must-haves of medical equipment.

They were ready to head out. Deidara had even readied the clay bird in a corn field a mile from the hotel.

With all their belongings together, the two set off, trekking in fifteen minutes' time to the patiently waiting bird. And once aboard, Sakura took the ample time to rest wearily against Deidara, arms around his waist, as he steered them right over Grass's unfortified borders and thick fields.

O O O

The very edge of Grass Country was coming into view with startling clarity, marked geographically by a large, green-tinted canyon. Vines spilled over the sides and moss grew lazily along the top, with intermittent sprinkles of flowers and tall grasses.

The weather, even, was practically ideal. It was overcast, but it was still warm when they flew close enough to the ground. It must have been a steady seventy degrees Fahrenheit. And still, despite the perfection of the day, a thick, smothering gloom lay fixedly over everything. As far as Deidara was concerned, the gods above could have descended right then, presented him with all of his previously pursued hopes and dreams—flawless precision in his art, absolute peace of mind, the promise of eternity and along with it supreme happiness, selfish things—on a silver platter, and he wouldn't bat an eyelash. What he wanted now was nothing the gods could give him; what he wanted now was nothing anybody could give him. He wanted what he couldn't have, desired, lusted, craved the thing that was most wont to slip through his fingers like water. His situation was such a romantic tragedy; his _life _was such a romantic tragedy.

There was never a time, Deidara realized, not once in his life, when he'd really won.

With a jerk at the clay bird's neck, he and Sakura began a steady, silent descent down, right on the other side of the canyon. The bird landed obediently and smoothly, lowering its belly to the ground to allow its passengers to disembark.

A veil of panic was quickly overtaking Deidara, kicking his adrenaline into gear and making his palms sweaty. This was it. This was _it. _This was what he'd foreseen from the beginning: Sakura's departure, leaving him alone, him never seeing her again, having to watch her walk away, this pain in his chest that was completely anticipated but it shouldn't have hurt _this _bad.

His mind was racing, desperate, fleeting thoughts running past him at a mile a minute. He wanted to grab her up in his arms and steal her away again, taking her someplace far away and safe. He wanted to hit something until his knuckles bled and the delicate phalanges in his fingers cracked and snapped and splintered like wood. He wanted to take all that clay he'd just bought and bring out the C3's, leveling forests and villages and greeting the sick satisfaction that would undoubtedly permeate his insides with a grim smile.

But instead, he watched Sakura, eyebrows drawn, jaw tight, as she adjusted her pack and straightened her shorts and skirt. This was it, he kept telling himself, repeating the phrase over and over again like a mantra. This was it, this was it, this was it.

His thoughts were still racing, coming together into a porridge of muddle and urgency. When she turned to him and smiled, gently, sadly, his heart abruptly backpedaled into the far wall of his ribcage. He wasn't ready for this. _She _wasn't ready for this. Neither of them were ready for this, no matter how much they thought to the contrary.

"Well," she began, looking down at her toes, scuffing the grass at her feet and rubbing her arm absently, "I should probably get moving. I'll be traveling well into the night if I want to get to Konohagakure before tomorrow afternoon."

He nodded, barely, the faintest hints of movement. He didn't like this. It felt too much like she was trying to offer closure, like she was trying to tie up all the loose ends, because Goddamn it, _this was it._

"I--uh." She stopped herself short, looking back up at him, eyes so green and wide and frustrated, just like him. She didn't know what to do, but they both knew this was the end. This was where the curtains closed, the doors shut, the lights switched off. They'd taken their respective ropes, entwined them, and now they were at the end. Who knew how long it would take to undo all the knots? It certainly couldn't be done with a simple goodbye.

"Goodbye," she said, not missing a beat. She moved as if she were going to hug him, kiss him, maybe, but he didn't react to her at all, and so she kept to herself. He watched her swallow hard, lick her lips, nod, and then turn to go.

He couldn't find the presence of mind to say anything. Just say _goodbye, _Deidara, for fuck's sake! He was never going to see this woman again; she'd come into his life, touched everything within it, left a part of her with him that he'd never get rid of, and now she was leaving.

He watched her get farther and farther away, possibly still waiting for him to say goodbye, offer some form of valediction—_any _form of valediction—but still he said nothing. He was rooted to the spot. He hadn't even blinked. Thankfully, he was still breathing.

She started running, though no chakra was introduced. She was still hesitating, and he was still standing there, staring at her like a jackass, completely silent and falling apart at his very seams.

His heart gradually detached itself from his spinal column and moved back to its rightful place, where it proceeded to thump loudly and painfully, jarring each rib, pushing a lump into Deidara's throat, making his eyes water and his lips press together tighter. His toes dug into his sandals and his fingers into his palm, and when he bit the inside of his bottom lip so hard that it was honestly starting to hurt and possibly bleed, his legs decided to move.

The clay bird behind him raised its head lazily to stare at him, watching him sprint to where Sakura was still running at an awkward, unsure pace. His heart beat three times as fast as his feet thumped against the ground, and he gritted his teeth. Sakura finally realized that Deidara was behind her, and she stopped, turning to watch him run to her with a painfully hopeful expression on her face.

When he reached her, he was out of breath. He took heavy, dutiful steps toward her, panting, until he was close enough to throw his arms around her shoulders, pushing her head to his collarbone.

"Deidara?" she questioned, and her hands came up to grip his sides lightly.

He ran his hands from around her shoulders to ghosting along her arms, drifting to her elbows, touching her wrists, and when he knelt down on just one knee, something largely instinctual took over. His heart threatened to crawl up his esophagus and make a new home in the back of his throat, but he pushed all that aside, as well as removing his scope and staring up at Sakura.

One of his hands held his scope while his other held Sakura's hand gently, just by the fingers, though firmly. She watched him, waited, and he took a deep breath, then another, then another.

"Dei—"

"I—" He gaped out the word, taken aback by the raw sense of necessity zigzagging through his veins. His eyes never left hers, though she glanced from him to their joined hands once.

"What are—?"

"I need you to marry me." The words fell out of his mouth in a slur, a rush, a downpour of emotion that he had, up until now, generally kept under strict lock and key.

She looked like someone had just kicked her in the stomach. Likewise, Deidara's stomach dropped. Fast.

"I don't have a ring," he stated quickly, squeezing her fingers. He offered his scope to her and swallowed. "But I do have this. I, you know… It wasn't like I was _planning _to do this, you know?" He would have rubbed the back of his neck if both of his hands weren't currently occupied.

Gingerly, Sakura took his scope, holding it before her. She looked from it back to him, still on one cliché knee, several times.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled, unsure what to do. It felt like the world was spinning on one unstable axis. "I—please marry me. Please. Anything for you to _stay."_

She broke on a sob, clenching the scope tight in her hand. "Oh, fuck."

Despite the circumstances, despite the fact that he felt worse than how he'd felt during his first ever hangover, he managed a small, weak laugh. "So…yes?"

"No."

The smile he'd once worn, certain she'd accepted him and that they were about to fly right the hell back to where they'd started, faded. The sensation of his heart pushing on his lungs came back, as well as the prick of tears in his eyes. He attributed this to allergies, though, because Grass Country tended to do that to him. "No?"

"I can't. I'm so sorry. I can't, Deidara."

The desperation was back, as well, though really, it had probably never left. He rose from his knee, dropping her hand in favor of threading his own hands into his hair and tugging hard. "You're blind, yeah. How are you not seeing this?"

She held the scope to her chest. "See what?"

"I can't just…leave you! _You _can't just leave _me!_ We can't just leave each _other,_ Sakura!"

"It's not like I want to!" she defended, tears falling down her cheeks at a steady rate. Her voice cracked and she sniffled. "But I don't have a choice."

"_Bullshit _you don't have a choice." He thumbed away a tear of frustration—_allergies. _He was allergic to some ragweed growing around here or something. "You always have a choice, yeah. That choice just never seems to work out in my favor."

"Don't do this, Deidara. Don't make it difficult."

"Well, look at the pot calling the kettle black," he snapped, narrowing his eyes. "I can't fucking win, can I?"

"Don't do this," she repeated, closing her eyes tight and still hugging the scope. "Please don't."

"You know what?" he said, and his voice had escalated to a steady shout. All of the hurt was slowly festering into anger, clouding over his head and making him feel restless. He paced in front of her. "Forget I said anything, yeah. Forget I asked you to marry me. Forget I asked you to spend your _life _with me."

"How can I forget that?" Her voice was soft, slightly defeated.

"Forget that I—that I offered you, no, _asked _you, _wanted _you, to be with me until we die. Just forget it!"

"I won't!"

He whirled on her, fists clenched. "Then why won't you just _marry me?"_

"I just can't!" she cried, looking him full in the face. "It would kill us both in the end!"

"I'm not afraid of death if I'm with you, Sakura!" He almost regretted the words as soon as he'd said them, because that very confession was what forced Sakura to weep. And besides that, he wasn't usually one to convey his emotions so clearly. It was almost a blow to his ego. He continued, much softer, "I don't know why you can't understand that."

She mumbled something incoherent, and he waited for her to regain her breath before asking her to repeat herself.

"I love you," she said, wiping her eyes. "I said I love you. You have no idea how much I love you. I _want _to marry you, but I _can't."_

He stared at her for a moment, feeling the anger ebb back into sorrow, and his arms hung heavy at his sides. "Don't lie to me," he whispered, and he was glad that she didn't hear it.

"I'm sorry," Sakura said, her voice quiet and sounding strangled. "I'm not going to forget you or anything you've said. I promise you, Deidara. I won't. I don't care if you forget about me or get over me or whatever, but I can't do that with you."

He inhaled deeply and closed his eyes. Kisame's words were suddenly filling his brain, making him want to just grab her and run away. Again. "Don't go after her," he'd said, but Kisame hadn't known how hard it would be for him not to. All he wanted to do was chase Sakura to the ends of the Earth.

"I'm going to keep my eyes closed, yeah," Deidara finally said. "When I open them again, you'd better be gone. If you're not, I'm taking you." He paused for a moment, letting the statement sink in. "And I'm not going to let you go this time."

He counted to thirty-five in his head, trying hard to concentrate more on the numbers than on Sakura's quick footsteps. A faint flare of chakra told him that she'd began to run faster, that she was finally gone.

He opened his eyes and stared at the empty space before him. From behind him, he could hear the clay bird approaching slowly, waiting for him to turn around and mount it.

"This is it," Deidara said, and he pulled a handful of clay from his bag.


	21. U is for Ugly

Found

**Found**

**U is for Ugly**

**A/N: **I promise I'm going to try and update sooner.

O O O

Tired, sore, hungry, thirsty, covered in grass stains from head to toe, Sakura wandered halfway through Fire Country. Passing through the borders had been a task and a half and it left her feeling frustrated on top of everything. She didn't have a passport, proper documentation, or even any sort of ID. She'd given them her registration number, though, 012601, and after dealing with hours more of paperwork, forms, and people running to-and-fro to retrieve a copy of all shinobi registration numbers from a heavily guarded filing system, they'd allowed her entry.

It wasn't like she could blame them, though. The war had no doubt caused their reproachful demeanors, and a hassle though it was, she was glad they were taking precautionary measures. There was a certain air about her surroundings, though, an aura that left her uncomfortable and nervous, that she couldn't place. It was familiar yet foreign, and not pleasant in the least.

And queerer still, the closer she drew to Konohagakure, the more the feeling intensified. The trees were smothered by it, the air lay thick with it, and the very dirt and grass at her feet seemed to swim in it. "Death," the feeling said, "death and destruction and the eradication of all that you've ever held dear."When she'd been with Deidara, she realized, all those months, the war had taken a backseat to her life. She wasn't in it, so she hadn't thought much on it, and the pressing matter of being a hostage to two ex-Akatsuki members had taken precedence over all else. When those matters had faded, her growing love affair with one of said ex-Akatsuki had been brought to the forefront, absorbing most if not all of her time and efforts.

But now, left to herself and only her thoughts, Sakura couldn't help but entertain her macabre subconscious with worst-case scenarios. Konohagakure had been leveled, completely destroyed, and now whoever remained of her friends were dead. It was a likely option, but not the nicest.

The trees began to thicken eventually, a sign that she was drawing closer to the heart of Fire Country, and likewise, closer to her home. She hadn't been back in so long… The months now felt like years. She wondered how everyone would react to seeing her again.

She knew this neck of the woods like the back of her hand, and she estimated another couple minutes before she reached one of the outlying villages. She and the rest of Team 7 would stop there on almost every mission for a short break, whether that be for stopping in at a coffee shop, grabbing a bite to eat, or just lounging about. It was where Naruto had stolen a kiss and she'd thrown him into the water fountain, where her teacher—_Kakashi—_had first mistaken her for a different, older woman and sidled up to her with a low, charming, "Looking for someone?"

"Yes, _Kakashi. _I was actually just looking for you." Her twelve-year-old self had not been amused, and at the time, she hadn't even caught the seductive undertones of what he'd said and how he'd said it.

"Oh. Sakura." He'd tried to mask his mistake, then, much like he'd masked everything else in his life. "I didn't even recognize you with your hair like that. And you hid your chakra, I see. You've gotten very good at it."

"Thank you!"

And he'd edged awkwardly away and Sakura had beamed for the rest of the day. She couldn't blame him, though. She'd dyed her hair for the mission—stuck out like a sore thumb, they'd all said—and worn a different, less conspicuous outfit. Everyone had. But he definitely never made the same mistake again.

No, never a mistake, but when she'd drifted casually into her late teens, her early twenties, he was always the first the sneak in a dirty joke at her expense. They were sly, nonchalant jokes that Sakura often never even understood until precious moments later.

Kakashi was dead, though, and had been for quite some time. He'd always taken on the near-impossible missions, barely skirting out of the grasp of death, ducking and dodging and maneuvering and squeezing himself into tight holes, only to find ingenious ways to get himself back out again. He was, in essence, and as far as Sakura had been and still _was _concerned, the perfect shinobi. Cool, calm, collected; Kakashi was a façade of stillness hiding a whirlwind of emotion and passion. He may have been socially inept at times, even standoffish or a little too impartial, but the Kakashi under the Kakashi—_underneath_ the underneath, as he was so wont to say—was someone Sakura felt privileged to know.

Dead. He was dead. One particular mission had made sure of it. Kakashi's face was etched as clearly into Sakura's mind as the words on his gravestone. She'd had time to recover, though, and she had. But that didn't mean she wasn't allowed to miss him.

She missed Kakashi so dearly at that very moment, and for the first time in a long time, she felt herself tearing up.

She shook it off, though, because the village was right in front of her, as well as a heavy sense of nostalgia. If only temporarily, the gloom previously pervading every inch of the forest lifted. It was as though the village thrived within a world of its own. People milled about every once in a while, at ease in their relatively safe hometown despite the darkness. The lights from windows of bars and late-night diners snugly illuminated patches of streets, and wherever a house was dark, the remnants of a warm fire rolled listlessly from the chimney.

As though reminding her that yes, winter was definitely well on its way, a cold breeze urged her forward. She wrapped the heavy tunic around her tighter, slowing to a walk when she entered the village.

Windows of shops since closed up for the night were fogged over, and from within one window, she could see a clock on the wall. It was nine o'clock. She'd been traveling for hours, and the only time she'd stopped was when the sun had gone down. And even then, it had only been for a bathroom break and to quickly shove a cold rice ball down her throat. Deidara made really nice rice balls, plain though they were.

She half looked for a place to eat and half allowed herself to think about Deidara. Where was he now? Had he gone back to find Kisame? Had he started off to find somewhere to finally settle? It was scary to think about how vital Deidara had become to her life, how important a component he was.

As she walked, she pulled the scope from her pocket. It was thick, heavy, and scratched. The inside of the scope, the part that attached to Deidara's face, was smooth to the touch, though, and she brought it to her face curiously. The world was tinted red through the lens.

"How do you even turn it on?" she wondered aloud, and when she pressed a button on the front, the lens whirred and then stilled. Carefully, she put the scope back to her eye, and this time everything was shaded green. Night-vision.

She stopped for a moment to slip the scope into her backpack, wrapped in a bundle of clothes. She'd have to study it later on, maybe find out exactly how it worked. She wondered if he had any more like it…

A neon bar sign above her flickered, and the moths buzzing about it, freezing, killing themselves just to taste the glow of the light, frantically scattered and then regrouped. Sakura stood beneath the sign for a long time after that, watching the moths, and she could hear limited activity inside. Soft music was playing, and she heard the distant clink of cooking utensils. Someone laughed loudly, muffled, and Sakura decided to go inside.

The door was wooden and bulky, and it scraped against the tile floor when she pushed it open. Some heads turned to her as she entered, but they turned away again slowly, disinterested. People peppered the bar in odd groups and clumps, with very few people sitting alone. Bottles of various liquors sat behind the counter, and two waitresses on duty chatted idly with customers.

A moth flew in, dazed, erratic, and Sakura shut the door behind her. She took a seat at the bar, keeping her backpack on, and smoothed back her hair. Her cheeks were cool to the touch. Her hands were cold too, but not so that it bothered her.

She fiddled with a coaster until one of the bartenders asked if she wanted anything. "A glass of water," she replied, but she suddenly wasn't so hungry anymore. She added cream cheese rangoons to her order quickly before the woman walked away.

With the attention once more gone from her, Sakura folded her arms on the table and placed her head in them delicately, taking a deep, long, shuddering breath. Her exhaled breath made it unbearably hot a few moments later, though, and she lifted it back up grudgingly, staring at some wine glasses behind the counter. The dull light glinted off them prettily, giving them an almost romantic glow. She was suddenly awfully aware of how tired she was… She set her cheek down on the bar top.

"First is sleep," Deidara was saying, slightly annoyed with her, his backed turned away from her in that cave. And then he was snoring lightly, and she was very discreetly cuddling his back for warmth.

And then Deidara was awake, and he was laughing so hard that he cried at a very hooked, very angry Kisame. Deidara was kissing Sakura near the bay, lamenting about his broken jaw, making a bust of her, standing next to her as they both said their goodbyes to Kisame.

And Sakura was taking out all of her frustrations on him.

Deidara was rolling around with her on the dirt-rock floor and hovering over her, panting, trying his best to comfort her when the emergency contraception had detrimental side-effects; he was watching her get pushed around by a handful of overconfident bandits, kissing her between cell bars, fussing over the arrow wound to her side, flicking ants at her.

And Sakura was reprimanding him for being such an idiot.

Deidara was complaining about dying his hair, calling her "Keiko" again and leading her through the village, stealing a handful of clay and two avocados, ravaging her in the elevator, pressing all the buttons to make it last longer; he was brushing his teeth and then rushing to her side when he saw her tears, having sex with her, _making love, _as they called it, for the very last time.

And Sakura was giving him the cold shoulder.

Deidara was stuttering over his words, fighting against himself to tell her what he needed to, chasing after her, taking her hand, getting down on a knee and offering everything he had, from his scope to his very life; he was passing off his watery eyes as allergies and warning her of his attachment to her, warning her of the depth of his affection.

And Sakura was…

And Sakura had rejected him. Again.

She clenched her fists and set them gently on the counter, moving so that her forehead rested against the wooden bar instead of her cheek. She gritted her teeth and shut her eyes tight, fighting back tears.

Why had she been such a _bitch _to him? She'd barely ever showed him the affection he deserved, rarely made him feel validated. And while he was constantly showering her with all of this, just saying whatever came to mind--and sometimes that wasn't a good thing--she was just holding it all inside. She wondered just how much it had tormented him.

A tear fell to the counter, pooling into the cracks in the polished wood. "I love you," she murmured, squeezing her fists tighter. "Why didn't I tell you that more?"

She thought about him now and how much courage it must have taken him to ask her to marry him. She thought about how he had been at the start of their relationship and how he'd turned out, how much he'd changed. And she thought about herself, and she felt ashamed.

The bartender slid Sakura's order in front of her, not saying a word. She was obviously used to this kind of thing.

Sakura slammed back her water and devoured the rangoons, searching for anything to get her mind off of Deidara. "This is it," she said, sniffling. "After this, there is no more." And she definitely wasn't talking about the rangoons.

She rubbed at her eyes with the heels of her palms and then tilted back, staring up at the ceiling. She counted the rotations of the slowly spinning ceiling fan one, two, three, four, five, six, seven times before someone tapped her on the shoulder and a familiar sensation washed over her.

Chakra. Distinct chakra. Comforting chakra.

_Rock Lee's _chakra.

She spun around so fast she almost fell out of the chair, and a much older-looking, much more tired-looking Rock Lee looked startled that it was Sakura who was sitting before him.

She stood up quickly, her hands itching to touch him, hug him. "Lee?"

"Sakura! I thought I recognized you!" He refrained from touching her, though she could see he wanted to hug or hold her, as well.

So she broke the strain and threw her arms around him, and he returned the embrace in kind, and she held him tighter than anybody she'd ever held before. Here was a piece of her past, showing up at the most opportune of moments, and she never wanted to let him go.

"Sakura, are you alright? Are you hurt? Where have you been?" he asked, _demanded, _pulling her back from him and holding her at arms' length. "You were listed as dead."

She bit her bottom lip and shook her head. "No, I'm not dead. I--I'm fine, Lee." She took his hands in hers. "Let's go outside."

He followed her out, and she released his hands, and they fell in step beside each other. They didn't talk for quite a while, simply relished in each other's presence.

Finally, Sakura glanced at him. "Tell me what's been happening, Lee. I've missed so much." And by the way his expression darkened, she figured the news wasn't going to be good. But she was still so excited about seeing him, and nothing was going to put a damper on that. Hopefully.

She prepared for the worst when he shifted nervously.

Lee sighed heavily, hands deep in the pockets of the large overcoat he wore. Flashes of that green suit peeked through the collar. "A lot of things have changed since your absence, Sakura."

She took a slow step, purposefully stepping on a stray leaf. It crunched under her foot gently. "I can imagine. Even if I wasn't gone that long…a whole life can turn around in the span of a second."

He was silent after this, and Sakura watched a handful of difficult emotions play across his face. Anxiety tugged at her heart.

"Lee…"

He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye.

"Lee, who died?"

She saw him swallow, saw him turn his head to the sky and watch the clouds swim over the stars. A cold breeze stirred his hair, and he closed his eyes.

"Lee," Sakura demanded, voice already breaking. She didn't like his hesitation. Lee never hesitated like this. "Lee, who--"

"Naruto."

The words died in her throat. "Naruto…?"

"Naruto is dead," Lee repeated somberly, lowering his face to the ground. "And Sai."

"_Sai?" _Sakura repeated, shocked, too overwhelmed by all of these revelations to do more than gape. Her brain had shut itself down in an effort to protect itself, it seemed, and the fact that she wasn't already sobbing was a testament to this fact. "I can't… How?"

"After Naruto, Sai, and Yamato lost you, they regrouped and returned to the village. You can imagine how averse to this Naruto was."

Sakura's frown twitched lower, and her eyes watered. The walls were breaking already.

"Shortly afterward, Konohagakure was attacked. Several groups of Sound-nin infiltrated the village and managed to gain an upper hand."

"Is that how Naruto and Sai--"

"--and countless others, Sakura, you can't forget about the civilians--"

"--died?" She sat down on a nearby bench, and her legs felt weak. She was so tired all of a sudden, as though she would fall asleep any moment. All of the information Lee had given her was weighing on her like a thousand sins, like the whole _war _was her fault alone. But at least they hadn't died while on a rescue mission for her.

"They headed off a group of shinobi at the Hokage tower, but even with Tsunade helping, there were simply too many. They--"

"Don't tell me how they died," Sakura said quickly, whispering, head in her hands. "Please don't."

Lee's face softened and he sat beside her, looking just as weary as she. "They died with honor, Sakura. This I can assure you."

She fell onto him, face in his arm, crying silently, willing the tears to stop. All the time she had been out messing around with Deidara, acting silly, trying to escape, but not really as time wore on, and her friends had been dying. Konoha had been crumbling. Maybe if she would have just been there to help, she could have done something.

"There was nothing that could have been done," Lee said softly, and he kept his hands respectfully to himself, though he allowed her to touch him as much as she liked. "They were… There was nothing you could have done." His words formed fog in the cold air, swirling, disappearing quickly.

She continued to cry into his arm, her thoughts running frantically in her head. If only she would have left Deidara sooner, if only she wouldn't have sat next to him in that bayou, if only, if only, if only--

"Are you cold?" he asked her, shifting slightly, and she picked herself up, shaking her head.

"No, I'm fine." She sniffled. "Thank you." They were dead now. Just like Kakashi, just like so, so many others. Her insides felt like they were boiling or melting or both.

"I want to know what happened to you," Lee began carefully, leaning back into the bench. "Who captured you? Were you harmed?"

"Rogue bandits," she answered quickly, and everything was quickly growing foggy and fuzzy and unintelligible. She was thankful for the alibi. As terrible as she felt about lying to Lee, she couldn't give away Deidara. The fact that he was alive would somehow get out, and she couldn't handle it if she found out Deidara was killed, too. "I--they injected me with something that kept me unconscious and held me in a prison." And at least it wasn't entirely untruthful. She was, admittedly, omitting quite a few things.

"Were you injured?" he repeated, furrowing his brow.

"No," she answered, shaking her head. "Nothing serious. I was wounded by an arrow, but I healed myself." She rubbed her eyes, sighing.

"I am here with Hinata and the surviving Hyuugas," Lee said, folding his arms and looking out at a store across from where they sat. "We are escorting the family and a number of civilians to an alternate Hyuuga compound."

"Where is Hinata now?" Sakura asked desperately.

"Likely at the inn," he said, standing, and Sakura stood with him. "Our plans are to continue to the compound tomorrow. It is not far from here."

Sakura smiled gently, despite it all. "You don't have to be so formal, Lee. Really."

And he smiled back just a little. "Will you accompany us?"

"Yes. Of course." She didn't want to be alone, definitely not after all that happened. Definitely not after she'd left Deidara. Definitely not after her village, her _home, _had been all but destroyed. Definitely not after learning that Rock Lee and Hinata were two of the only people she had left to depend upon.

"You can stay at the inn where we are staying," he said, and he led her down the dark streets toward a tall building, three or four stories high, lit only by small square of light that peppered its side. "I will wake you in the morning."

"You don't have to do this, Lee," she began to protest, but he cut her off at the jump.

"Think of it as a welcome home gift."

He paid for her room at the desk and took her to the second floor, opening the room with a key and closing the door behind them.

Sakura crawled into bed immediately and pulled the blankets over her, dirty clothes and all. She didn't care anymore. All she wanted was the promise of sleep, and with it, the promise of a peace of mind that she rarely achieved.

Rock Lee smiled and set the key on her nightstand. "Goodnight, Sakura."

She looked up at him from under her nest of blankets. "Lee, will you stay in here? I don't…really want to be alone. You know?"

He was quiet for a moment. "I understand," he said, though he didn't make any move to sit down or indicate that he was staying. "But I cannot." He held up a contradicting finger and smiled tiredly. "It is improper for a man to spend the night in a woman's room unless he is married to that woman."

Sakura sighed and laughed weakly.

"So if we were to be married, Sakura, I would be more than happy to stay the night in your room! We can make arrangements to be married tomorrow at the earliest, Sakura; I am quite certain that the Hyuugas would be more than happy to accommodate us--"

Sakura rolled over. "Goodnight, Lee," she deadpanned. Two marriage proposals in two days. What a lucky gal. And her heart ached at the irony.

She heard him laugh a little, and then heard the door click when he closed it behind him.

And her thoughts drifted over Konohagakure, over Sai and Naruto, over their deaths and what Lee had said. And the tears came and the tears went, and with her face still pressed hard into the pillow, hot, suffocating, in that wonderful medium between sleep and awareness. And her thoughts fell instantly upon Deidara, and the tears threatened to come again, and she bit them back, and she felt a painful throb of guilt for thinking about Deidara when he was still alive and her friends were dead.

And it surprised even her to realize that Deidara was a friend too. He'd become just as important as Naruto and Sai in those few brief months that she'd known him, grown close to him, been _with _him.

"Took you long enough to realize it, yeah," she heard him say, somewhere deep inside her head, and she laughed through the tears.


	22. V is for Vex

Found

**Found**

**V is for Vex**

**A/N: **"Some people expect fics to play out like a movie. But life doesn't go that way. Some beginnings fade away and never really conclude, and some things are completely random. But that doesn't mean they don't have significance when held together in a bigger picture." A quote by Cynchick, in regards to _Found._

Hopefully this answers some questions many of you have either already voiced or are still holding in. I can't find another way to more concretely describe it than what she's said.

O O O

Seagulls flew overhead, dotting the sky with white and grey, calling to each other, circling, diving down the water's crest and then flying straight back up, toward the sun. Sparse trees rustled in the wind, salty, thick with the accent of the ocean. The very rocks beneath them seemed to _move,_ moist, cool, smooth patterns interrupted by arbitrary blades of grass.

He was talking, this man beneath her, lips moving slowly, languidly, a calm expression crossing his face. He was telling her things that she couldn't hear, wasn't listening to, because maybe she was too preoccupied with just watching him live.

She was talking too, words that seemed staged and fake, and she watched the flutter of emotions pass through him. She was kissing him, then, his arms were wrapping around her, cupping her face, and she was doing the same, and they weren't pretending; not pretending anymore, at least, and it would be the first breaking of walls, one of the earliest breeches of boundaries.

And if there was anything that was real in the world, anything that truly existed beyond even a shadow of a doubt, it was this, being here with the man who was everything and nothing and the black and the white and all the grey space in between. It was sitting on a knoll of rocks and grass, not hearing and barely seeing, barely aware of reality, barely _breathing, _no less, sharing something so vital, so necessary with him that it made her feel weak and dizzy.

But it was gone with the snap of fingers, the flick of a wrist, the sunlight suddenly boring into her room through a wide crack in the curtains and flooding her with terrible light. She opened her eyes quickly, every muscle in her body tense, and she wondered, frantically, where she was and why Deidara wasn't there with her.

Still disoriented, she rolled over, groped at the empty space beside her for him. She sat up and glanced around the small room, but all that she saw was a dark bathroom and her pack lying haphazardly in an armchair.

She relaxed instantly, shoulders drooping, and lay back down. She rolled onto her side and pulled the blankets over her, breathing into her pillow until it became too hot to do so anymore.

Reluctantly, Sakura pulled away from the suffocating pillow and stared instead up at the stucco ceiling. She tried making shapes of animals out of the patterns, but her mind was still too foggy and delirious from the previous confusion to function properly. All she could manage to see were swirls and dots of white, which, essentially, was exactly what was there.

It was strange not waking up to someone else's voice or touch. Deidara or Kisame had normally been the first ones up, making breakfast or scouting the area. And when it was just her and Deidara, in those final days, he'd nudge her awake with a toe or blow on her neck until she batted him away. It was annoying, sure, but it was so painfully _Deidara._

Her toes curled into the warmth of the sheets when she sat up again, and she detached herself from her bed quickly. She'd stay in bed all day if she didn't, and Rock Lee had promised to be there in the morning. One glance at the clock on her nightstand told her that it was around eight o'clock, and so she started the hot water in the shower, disposing of her dirty clothes and stepping in.

After a brief session of almost falling asleep in the shower and then letting the water run over her face as a hydrotherapy of sorts, she pulled clean clothes out of her pack, mindful of the scope still hidden in its depths, and then rummaged around for a toothbrush.

It was the same toothbrush they'd had since the boat incident, the bristles frayed from overuse. She ran her thumb over them idly, drowning in the nostalgia, and when she glanced back to the bathroom, now illuminated by the bathroom light, she half expected Deidara to be in there shaving, banging his razor against the counter.

She went through the motions of brushing her teeth and her hair mechanically, robotically. Strands of loose hair fell on the countertop, and she brushed them into the wastebasket. She hadn't used the shampoo and conditioner Deidara had packed, she realized, nor had she used the soap, and it was almost enough incentive for her to grab those items and jump back in the shower.

But there was a knock at the door, then, and she knew it was Lee and thus time to go. She gathered her things and picked up the key, opening the door and greeting Lee with a smile.

Lee beamed right back. He seemed positively radiant in comparison to last night, white teeth mocking _her_ inadequately white teeth lovingly, every bit of his hair perfectly in place. The bags under his eyes were gone, and they were wide and excited. He still wore the overcoat with his vest and green suit, and though he'd replaced the bright orange legwarmers with some tall brown boots, he was still the Rock Lee she'd known since childhood. He seemed more endearing, though, when he was disheveled, flustered, less than at his prime, like last night. She liked it when he seemed more human. Imperfect in all the right ways.

"Are you ready, Sakura?" he asked, stepping aside to allow her to exit.

Sakura smile and nodded, slinging her backpack over her shoulder. "Yes, I'm ready." 

"Good! Hinata and her family are waiting downstairs. I informed them that you will be traveling with us."

"She doesn't mind, does she?"

Lee seemed shocked and hurt by this insinuation. "Of course not! Hinata was overjoyed, in fact."

Sakura laughed. "And what about Neji?"

"Neji was… Well. Neji was not upset, and that is all that matters!" He offered to take her bag, but she declined with a shake of her head.

As promised, Hinata, Neji, and a few other members of the Hyuuga clan stood in wait in the small lobby, belongings slung over arms and backs and sitting at their feet. As soon as Hinata saw Sakura, recognition dawned over those odd, beautiful eyes of hers, and she rushed to her.

Sakura accepted Hinata with a warm hug, though she figured that wasn't what the girl was going for. Still, she held her tightly, and probably a bit too long, because the lobby had grown suspiciously quiet when she released her.

"Sakura," Hinata began, "Rock Lee told me about what happened. Are you alright? You weren't hurt, were you?"

She shook her head, probably a bit too vehemently. "I wasn't hurt, Hinata. I was in good hands, for the most part." She didn't miss the questioning glance that Rock Lee gave her at this comment. "And what about you? Were you hurt?"

Hinata, likewise, shook her head. "Not in any significant manner." She smiled wryly. "We're relocating to one of the older Hyuuga compounds northeast of here. You're coming?"

"Definitely. If…you'll have me, that is."

"Yes! I would never think otherwise." Hinata took Sakura by the wrist and gently led her to the center of all of her relatives, anxious, some of them fidgety but most of them perfectly collected, and Sakura felt like she could live through another day.

She saw Neji from the corner of her eye, who was watching her reproachfully. When she turned to him, he blinked.

"Hi," she said, nodding. "How are you?"

"Fine," he lied, and he returned the nod curtly. And Sakura smiled at the fondness of all of these memories.

The group began to move as one concentrated mass, and though not quite as fast as shinobi normally would, they made good time. Rock Lee and Hinata walked beside Sakura, ran where necessary, which was whenever the group unanimously decided that they were up to the task, and they talked with her as they did. Sometimes the topics were light, like when they talked about all of their antics back at the academy, and sometimes they were heavy, like when all three of them lamented over the deaths of their comrades. Hinata seemed particularly shaken up over Naruto, and understandably so, though she skimped on the details pertaining to their relationship prior to his death.

Rock Lee eventually brought up the Akatsuki, when they were running again, hopping from branch to branch. He asked about Sasori, Itachi, all of them, asking Sakura if she'd seen them during her time as a hostage, by any chance, though the knowledge that they had all been killed had since then been widely accepted as fact. She'd answered no, and he'd gone on to talk about Deidara, about fighting the man missing two arms and using just a kunai in his teeth, about how fateful that battle had been, how he'd love to challenge Deidara to a rematch someday, man to man. There was no anger or hatred in his voice at all, just sheer determination and competitiveness. Sakura entertained this thought for a while, the image of Rock Lee and Deidara sparring, and for some reason, she couldn't think about it without giggling.

They reached the presumed Hyuuga compound around mid-afternoon, and maids rushed to and fro to show each person their appointed room. The compound itself was half the size of the one back in Konohagakure, but it fit them all just fine, and Sakura was delighted at the prospect of having her own room.

The exterior of the compound, so dubbed Hyuuga Castle by an astonished Sakura, much to the amusement of Hinata and much to the disdain of Neji—"This isn't a castle," he'd argued, "it's a _retreat,"—_appeared much smaller than it actually was. The interior was clean, spacious, and beautiful in its simplicity; not an elegant wall scroll or vase of cherry blossoms was out of place. And where they got cherry blossoms was a mystery to Sakura, because they were _way _out of season. She suspected they were probably fake, but she didn't want to be rude by touching them to find out.

The doors at the front of the "castle" were primarily sliding paper doors, immaculate, lavish, and delicate in a way that made Sakura very, very nervous. These doors separated the tea room from the kitchen, the living room from the hallway, and so on. Regular wooden doors lined the hallway, which were, surprisingly, nearly as delicate as the paper. Sakura's room lay at the very end of the hallway, _way _at the end, and when she walked in only her socks down the hardwood floor to that very room, feet padding softly, she felt like an undeserving princess.

She had a nice view of a bird's nest from her room's window, and her futon was absolutely heavenly. A small dresser accommodated her clothing quite nicely, and her collection of said clothing doubled in size when Hinata donated clothes to her. She'd tried to refuse at first, but Hinata had insisted, and so Sakura found herself wearing clothing that fit her perfectly everywhere except the bust. _Always _the bust.

Deidara's scope was kept wrapped up in a pair of clean white socks in the drawer, safely hidden and stored away from prying eyes. She took it out to look at it often, study the buttons and functions, and she'd eventually learned how to take pictures with it. She didn't know how to review the pictures yet, but she figured she'd learn.

Her ratty old toothbrush was replaced with a new one still in the package, though Sakura kept her old one for sentimental value. And she tried not to clean out her hairbrush _too _often, because blue hair was still faintly apparent, deeply entangled in the brush's recesses, and the blond hair commingled with the pink hair quite nicely.

So Sakura lived in what could have been considered the lap of luxury at Hyuuga Castle for five days. For those five days she busied herself and, subsequently, her constantly wandering mind by taking nature walks with Lee, who seemed to have gained a second wind when it came to his fervor in pursuing her, though she was fairly certain it was more to pull a laugh from her than anything, and spending allotted amounts of deeply missed "girl time" with Hinata. They all avoided subjects that reminded them of the war and the loss they suffered, for shinobi though they were, they were still human. It was a rule of thumb: Whoever wasn't present at the Hyuuga compound was either dead or missing, and no questions were asked. Sakura tried her very hardest not to think too hard on it.

On the seventh day, when Sakura was busily learning how to improve her sadly lacking cooking skills with one of the maids, Yamato visited. He was battle-weary, worn ragged, and when he took his boots off at the front door, his socks were caked with mud and grime. He hadn't stayed long, though. Not much longer than to greet Sakura cheerily, give her a long-armed hug in an attempt to shield her from his prominent male odor, courtesy of nature and being exposed to the elements for _way too long, _and to relay to the males in the bathhouse what he'd seen in his travels.

Konohagakure was still in disarray, he'd said, though they were working steadily to rebuild it. Tsunade had been working herself to the bone to try and fix all destroyed, but it was a difficult task. The village wouldn't be safely inhabitable for quite some time to come. All surviving civilians had been relocated to special housing units in some other outlying villages. Teams of Leaf-nin were working hard to both protect Konohagakure and rebuild it.

No, Rock Lee wasn't needed. No, Neji's assistance wasn't required. No, Hinata and Sakura didn't need to high-tail it over there. Rock Lee and Neji and Hinata and Sakura and every other able-bodied shinobi currently residing at Hyuuga Castle—Neji frowned at this joke—were required to stay where they were, where they were needed. If they were wanted elsewhere, then they had better believe that they would be summoned.

Yamato left with a clean pair of clothes, thanks to the maids, and a body smelling of soap rather than sweat and dirt and shrubbery. He gave Sakura a proper hug this time, which Sakura smiled into, and shook everyone else's hands. When he was gone, Sakura retired to her room, took out Deidara's scope, and cried. And she didn't really know why.

There were ten more days of nothing, of leisure, of living the good life, as they would say, and then the world was flipped upside-down once more.

She could sense something in the compound was stirring long before she stepped outside her room and damn near collided with someone hauling ass down the hallway. She stopped the next person with a polite, "Excuse me, what the fuck is going on?"

The man stopped, panting. "They've discovered a shinobi that tried to sneak into the compound."

"A shinobi?" Sakura asked, interest piqued. She followed the man, who continued to rush to the main room, throw open a _shoji _screen, and dart outside, socks and all. Sakura, however, had enough sense to slip on her boots.

The sky rumbled, full with rainwater waiting to be dropped to the earth, and Sakura rushed to where several of the compound's inhabitants were standing in a circle and murmuring amongst themselves.

"What's going on?" she asked to the outside of the circle, and she saw Hinata push her way through a throng of overexcited people. "Hinata, what happened?"

"A man tried to break in," she said, glancing over her shoulder and walking alongside Sakura as they attempted to infiltrate the tight circle. "Neji stopped him, though, and the man attempted to kill him." She spoke in a rush, and Sakura couldn't quite comprehend all of it.

"Wait, who tried to kill who? Why did the man want to break in?"

"Neji was forced to retaliate under fatal circumstances. We don't know why the man wanted to break in yet." The both of them stopped walking toward the center of the inner arc of curious onlookers, and Hinata touched Sakura's arm carefully. "If he's not an enemy, Sakura, can you heal him?"

Sakura looked first at Hinata and then down at the ground. "If he's dead, there's nothing I can do."

"I—I meant if he was still alive. I'm sorry. If he's still alive, can you heal him?" She fiddled with the sleeves of her coat, glancing to the inner circle anxiously. "I don't want anyone else to have to die for foolish reasons. And I'm not sure if any other medic-nin here will do it."

"Yes. I'll heal him."

Hinata nodded her thanks, looked as if she were about to hug her, and continued forward, Sakura at her heels. They shoved past groups of people, annoyed at the intrusions, and there lying on the ground, facedown, was a disturbingly familiar shinobi. Long blond hair pooled around his shoulders and haloed his head. Every limb was still, and his back did not expand with any breaths.

Sakura dropped to her knees beside him, hands hovering over his form. He wore a grey vest, black pants, black boots and a black long-sleeve shirt. His hands were gloved in black leather, and one arm lay by his side obediently while the other strayed outward.

Neji knelt on the other side of the fallen man, staring at Sakura hard. Sakura was doing her best to fight back tears, but she couldn't hold in her trembling and she put a hand carefully on his back. He didn't move.

"He's not breathing," she said, her voice broken. Neji looked back down to the man. And, after pressing two fingers to his neck and then to the exposed portion of his wrist, she announced: "He's dead."

The groups' muttering increased for a moment, and then several people wandered away, disinterested in the fate of a dead man. Sakura's hand clenched into the fabric at his back and she bit her bottom lip as her eyes welled with tears. "He's dead," she whispered. Neji stared intently at her once again, and Hinata approached her side carefully, one hand to her chest.

"This is not your Deidara."

Sakura looked up to Neji so quickly that she almost felt dizzy. "What?"

Neji shook his head and closed his eyes. "This is not Deidara." He rolled the man over, and there lay a much older man than previously assumed, roughly thirty to forty years of age, with a short, fuzzy beard that covered most of his lower face.

Sakura's tears stopped immediately, and she sniffled in a rather pathetic display. "Then who is—?"

"A drunk," Neji replied, and he stood, brow furrowed. "Just a drunken shinobi who was at the wrong place at the wrong time." Neji looked out over the small crowd that was still gathered, and he dispersed them with a wave of his hand. "All of you need to go back inside now." And they all did.

Hinata put a hand on Sakura's shoulder and whispered "Thank you anyway," before making her way inside.

Sakura was left alone with Neji, who closed the unknown man's eyes with two pale fingers. "You were expecting Deidara, weren't you?"

She knew this was coming. Neji had sent all of the people away because he'd wanted to talk to her about any suspicions that he may have had. And for some reason, she really didn't feel like lying or trying to cover it up. "Yes. I was."

"You've been with him the whole time, or at least most of the time you were missing."

"Not of my own volition," she said through gritted teeth, not liking the tone Neji had taken. She stood up so that he wasn't towering over her, and though he was still taller than her, she didn't feel quite so condescended this way. "Believe me, if I could have come back sooner, I would have."

"You misunderstand," Neji stated calmly, and his expression never faltered, his gaze never shifted, he barely even moved except to breathe or tilt his head slightly. "I wasn't insinuating anything of that sort."

"Then what are you trying to say?" She clenched her fists in frustration. "And how do you know about Deidara and me anyway?" There was no way he'd seen her with him. She wasn't the best of friends with Neji, granted, but he wouldn't just leave her in the hands of an S-class criminal. He would have found some way to make contact with her or free her completely if he'd been witness to her capture or any of the months her detainment.

He seemed amused at the phrase "Deidara and me," because he raised an eyebrow and then continued with his explanation. "That scope you have in your bedroom belongs to him. I recognized it from when I fought him."

"You've been going through my things?" She was so riled up at this point that logic didn't really apply anymore.

"_No," _he answered, sternly, but not angrily. "Calm yourself, Sakura. I've seen you working on it in your bedroom." He sensed that she was about to speak again, so he cut her off. "You leave your door open often. Am I to be persecuted for being able to see inside when walking down the hallway?"

She closed her mouth tight, glancing down at the dead man solemnly. "No," she answered. "No."

An uncomfortable, awkward silence transpired between them before Neji decided to speak once more. "It isn't any of my business," he said, finally looking away from her and down at the dead man also, "but if Deidara were to search for you, he wouldn't run into any problems _finding_ you. Especially since you aren't exactly running and hiding from him."

Sakura scowled, but Neji paid no notice.

"I'm concerned about the threat he poses to the people here."

"Deidara doesn't—"

"You don't know that," he countered, turning only half away from her. "You said yourself you were only with him for a few months. You don't know his motives, his plans, or his capabilities." He didn't even glance at her, waiting stoically for her response.

Sakura kept her mouth shut, staring obstinately at the line of trees that decorated the edges of the compounds. Gnarled roots crept forwards, tearing grass and soil, digging into the land like greedy hands. Greedy fingers, greedy beings, knowing nothing, moving to move, moving to survive, _skillful _at surviving. She glanced at Neji once, saw that he was still turned away, waiting for her to reply, and a breeze rustled the tree leaves and his hair. His clothing, stark white, perfect against the deep green backdrop of the forest, pressed firmly against his body.

"You have no idea," she muttered, and Neji finally had the grace to look at her. "You don't know anything. You can't learn if you haven't experienced it."

"What are you trying to tell me?" he asked, and the wind wrapped his loose-fitting clothing around him once more. Thin, perfect, skillful, moving to survive. Nothing more. "You're in love with him?"

The trees began to recede, then, away from her consciousness and away from the compound. The shifting leaves stilled and the quivering grass lay still. And Neji watched her indifferently, expecting an alter in her demeanor or expecting her to back down and relent. He'd always been pretentious, full of himself, suffering from the god complex that was so prevalent among child prodigies.

But he wasn't a child anymore, and these traits had worsened in him, spread like cancer, a virus, digging into his veins and sprouting something greedy, pompous, and cold. Greedy fingers, greedy beings, knowing nothing, moving to move, moving to survive, _skillful _at surviving.

But Neji wasn't greedy because Neji deserved everything. Neji _was _everything, hiding behind a wall of faux concern. And maybe the concern was actually there, genuine on some intrinsic level, but it was too hollow for Sakura to sympathize with.

"It isn't any of your business," she said finally, and he kept his eyes firmly on hers, not flinching.

"I suppose it isn't," he conceded. "Love is transient; abstract; subjective. Do not mistake it."

He knew nothing of emotions. Greedy, moving to survive.

"If Deidara comes here," he said, and his eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly, "I will attack him. And I will kill him." He turned purposefully away and stalked across the wide expanse of grass, to the front door of the compound, and disappeared inside.

She was frightened suddenly of the changes she'd never seemed to notice before. The war had certainly taken everything she'd known and tossed it asunder, making bad things good and good things bad, but she'd never had the chance to stand back and look at the bigger picture before.

She sat down cross-legged in the grass, cool against her thighs, and looked up at the sky. Clouds roiled lazily, slowly, heavily.

It was the truth, and one she'd been trying not to think about since she'd first talked with Lee at the bar: There was nothing left for her. Konohagakure was gone; almost all of her friends were gone. What could she gain from staying here?

She glanced back at the compound, and through the windows, she could see silhouettes of people moving back and forth.

Nothing. She couldn't gain, but she could take, occupy unnecessary space in Hinata, Neji, and the Hyuuga family's lives, no matter how little she spoke to them, lend painful memories to those who looked at her and thought of the times when their village was still cheerful and bustling and _alive. _

Tsunade still thought her dead, she reasoned, and maybe that was all for the better.

She made up her mind at that moment, standing up abruptly and wiping the stray grass from her legs. She followed the path that Neji had taken into the compound, through the _shoji _screens, and then straight down the hallway and to her bedroom.

She tugged her backpack out from underneath the dresser, unzipping it and opening the mouth wide. She stuffed three changes of clothes into it, her brush, toothbrush, toiletries, weapons, and whatever else she had arrived with into it.

When she came to the scope in her dresser drawer, still wrapped in socks, she pulled it out. She'd damn near mastered the thing by now, and she smiled, snapped a picture of herself, took a couple photos of the room, and then set it carefully into the backpack.

She zipped it up roughly and swung it over her shoulder, smoothing down her hair and straightening her outfit. She realized with a prick of embarrassment that she'd forgotten to take off her boots, but she just marched out her door, down the hallway, and through the _shoji _screens once more.

She met Hinata in the day room and bowed deeply. Hinata watched her curiously.

"I can't tell you how grateful I am to you, Hinata, and all of your family. You have done so much for me already." She lifted from her bow, fixing the backpack on her pack tighter. "But I can't stay here any longer. I don't want to burden you. I know I don't belong."

"Sakura…" Hinata began softly, but Sakura just shook her head.

"I have places I have to go. I…I can't stay here. Not so close to Konoha."

Hinata stood up from the table she'd been sitting at, hands pressed together in front of her. "If that's what you choose, Sakura, I won't try and persuade you otherwise."

Sakura smiled sadly and stepped forward to embrace her friend. "Thank you, Hinata." She pressed her face into her hair and tightened her arms around her, biting back tears. It would probably be the last time she would see her again, any of them again.

She pulled away, and Hinata smiled feebly. "You can come back any time you'd like. You know that."

"I know. Thank you."

"Are you going somewhere, Sakura?"

Lee's voice was the last needle in her heart, and she brushed away a tear quickly.

"Are you alright?" He advanced upon her, hands hovering but not touching. Never touching.

"I'm alright, Lee. But I have to go."

He frowned, and when she pulled him, too, into a hug, the frown deepened. He returned it tentatively. "Why are you leaving? Where are you going?"

She pulled back from him. "It's…it's nothing, Lee. I just have things to take care of. I'll be back as soon as I can, though, I promise."

"Well, then I'll accompany y—"

"You can't," she said quickly. "You can't. I have to do this by myself."

Lee looked as if he was going to protest, but he swallowed it on an inward sigh.

"If Tsunade happens to ask…" Sakura started, turning around toward the front door, "tell her—"

"We never saw you," Hinata finished, still smiling. "We won't say anything, Sakura. Just…be careful. And please try to contact us soon."

Sakura nodded, but she didn't turn to face them again. Tears spilled down her face. "Okay. I will. You all stay safe too."

She was gone in less than a second, darting across the grass and into the forest. Even then, she could hear Lee and Hinata softly conversing at the back of her mind, wondering at her sudden decision to up and leave.

She didn't know whether Neji would tell them where she'd gone, whether Neji _knew _or not, but she found she didn't care either way. Here she was, stagnating, leeching off of her friends for over two weeks, three, maybe, stewing in her own thoughts and inactivity. She'd known from the start that there was nothing left for her; known, yes, but believed it, no. Denial was a strong breed of drug.

But it was the truth. There was nothing left for her but the carcass of her home and two friends that would do much better without her. They'd fared fine when she wasn't there and they'd fare fine now.

She didn't glance back, and the cold wind stung her skin as she began to sprint, chakra burning in her legs and feet. She silently hoped they'd just consider her dead, at least until she decided what she wanted to do with her life, half-empty as it stood.

O O O

Seven birds, hollow eyes, beaks curved into sharp points, sitting in a circle, staring wordlessly at the sky, the ground, the trees around them.

Seven birds, sleek backs, cold little feet digging gently into the earth, fidgeting as they stood, anxious.

Seven clay birds, sitting before Deidara, watching him carefully. Waiting for a command. Where do we go? What should we do? We're waiting on you.

Seven small clay birds, the size of his pinky finger, exploding into shrapnel in a single-file line with a delicate "pop."

He smiled sickly to himself, mustering up some of that old familiar glee, the kind that made his stomach roll with passionate emotion, when he destroyed and devastated and _didn't care. _It felt stale, though, that past glee, and he realized that the rolling of his stomach was just acting in direct correlation to the aching of his chest. He put a weak hand to his head, lips drawing down into a deep frown, and sat on a bench.

Two weeks, almost three, he'd been walking in circles, pacing, waiting for something to happen, _anything. _He stood and sometimes he sat and oftentimes he lay, watching the sky and listening for a chance at change. He felt like he was vegetating, but still he stayed, waiting for life to happen.

And life, as he realized, never came. Well, he'd never been a lucky guy anyway.

He went through the necessary stages of rejection—it was a rejection of necessity, he assured himself. First came the anger, and the anger had lasted for a long, long time. Angry at Sakura, of course; who did the bitch think she was? She had toyed with him, used him, manipulated him, steered him toward developing feelings so that he would let her free.

But he didn't believe that.

Angrer at others followed; why couldn't _all _of her friends have died? Then she wouldn't have anybody to go back for, to live for, and she could have stayed with him.

But he doubted even _that_ would have changed her mind.

Anger toward himself, finally; what had he done wrong? He was such a fuck-up. It was no wonder she'd rejected him. He would have done the same thing in her position.

But he _knew _she felt the same about him. She didn't have to tell him, he just knew. He knew by the way she'd looked at him, by the way she'd cried, waited for him to say something, and kept his scope.

The old anger was back, then, pooling inside of him, filling him to his fingertips, and anger at what, he didn't know. But his fingers twitched to the bags at his hips, and he stood up, pulling out a handful of clay. He wanted to do something grand, something large-scale, something that would be so beautiful it would take his mind off the current. He'd decimated several portions of the forest on his first trek through it when he'd first left Sakura, and he'd taken a shine to blowing up entire mountainsides, collapsing cliffs, but none of that could be compared to the explosion of a town. The tinkling of shattered glass, far overwhelmed by the initial bang and the cracking of wooden beams, plaster falling into white dust, fire consuming whatever was left in the wake of destruction.

He hadn't felt this way for a long, long time. He'd blown up the tower in the city Sakura had escaped to once, but it hadn't quite been the same. He'd been preoccupied by his captive, slippery as an eel and finding a way to slither through his fingers, much too preoccupied to really revel in the explosion. He'd seen it erupt in black smoke and flames, sure, but from a distance, and it hadn't given him any feeling other than a smug satisfaction at capturing Sakura and giving her a display that clearly said, "Look what happens when you defy me, you little fuck."

And he'd wanted to plant some bombs in the elevator on the ship, too, but he hadn't been able to. He'd slipped into a delirious, intoxicating insanity, feasting off of it like the hungry, deranged madman he was, but his mistake had been telling Sakura. The confusion that painted her face and the cautious, anxious edge to her tone had quickly snapped him out of it, and then he didn't care.

But…she hadn't replaced his art. _Nothing _could replace his art. His art was not comparable to a human or any living being; art was a feeling, a lifestyle, though it had admittedly slipped to the backseat of his life and was now more of a hobby than anything. Sakura and art were two very different things, and he loved them both in two very different ways.

It was funny, though, just how much influence they had on each other.

The clay in his hand was warm, now, and very malleable, and the mouth on his palm slipped the tip of its tongue through its lips, impatient for the taste. He rolled it through his hand thoughtfully as he strolled through the town, kicking up dust behind him. Citizens milled around at fruit vendors, loitered in the streets, reclined on benches and shivered at the occasional cold breeze.

He was planning something sinister, and he wondered if they could see it. His left eye felt itchy and naked without the scope to shield it, and the feeling of his hair brushing over his eyelashes was very foreign. It did not, however, detract from his thoughts.

He looked up at a small schoolhouse, tall and pointed at the top, and he smiled to himself. How would it look to collapse from the inside? The point would groan and topple, shatter at the floor, tiles would clatter to the ground, fire would climb up the sides and lick the edges of the devastation.

Beside the schoolhouse he saw an apartment building, several stories high, thick and wide, standing higher than the power lines. There was probably an elevator in there, too. An inferno would rise up the shaft, swallow the elevator, spill into the different building levels and eventually coat the stairwells in smoke. He'd love to be there when the topmost floors gave way first, supports dying so that they crashed into the rooms below them, falling one at a time, until it was just rubble and dirt and ashes.

A delicate, muted crash somewhere to his right startled him, and he glanced over to the source of the noise quickly. A pregnant woman—very, _very _pregnant woman—had dropped a basket of groceries, and cans and various fruits rolled defiantly away from her. She mumbled a curse under her breath and tried to bend over to collect her dropped items. Her belly prevented her from doing this, though, and twice she almost fell over.

Deidara put the clay back in his pouch, and his hand-mouth shut its lips tightly, miffed. He approached the woman, who looked startled at either his appearance or the fact that he was staring intently at her swollen stomach. "Can I help?" he asked, bending down to pick up a can without her answer.

"Yes," she answered on a sigh, straightening and placing the hand not holding the basket on her back. "Thank you. I just can't seem to do anything anymore…"

He smiled benevolently and handed her the can, then began scooping up the other items, brushing the dirt off of them as best he could. "Just a consequence of being pregnant I guess, yeah."

She laughed and glanced up at the sky. "I suppose. But you'll never really know."

He wiped off an orange on leg, then wiped the dirt from his pants. "No?"

"Not unless you have a pregnant girlfriend or wife." She laughed at this, but Deidara's heart tumbled into his stomach, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't smile at the woman's comment. He handed her the orange and stood.

"Thank you very much. I really appreciate it." And then she waddled off, resting the basket on her belly and holding it in place.

He felt sour inside again, and the urge for demolition was gone as he watched her climb dutifully into the apartment building.

He took a second to look around, and the things he saw, the things he could have _destroyed _for selfish, unnecessary gain made him ill. Two little boys and a girl played in front of the schoolhouse, drawing things with sticks in the dirt and making cakes and cookies from mud. In front of a butcher shop down the road, a group of gangly, awkward teenage boys dallied, smoking cigarettes and coughing on them, laughing amongst themselves and having a general good time.

He turned to sit back down on the bench, but he saw that two old men had taken residence there, feeding pigeons from a bag of popcorn and complaining amusedly about their wives.

And Deidara had been about to take all of this away.

He felt sick, sick down to his bones, sick in a way that caused him physical pain, and he hurried back into the forest, out of sight. He traveled until he could no longer hear the languid voices of the townspeople, no grumbling old men, no laughing children, no raucous teenagers slapping their knees and taking careful, inexperienced drags from cigarettes.

He traveled until there was hardly any sound at all, and he passed by several blast sights, grass and trees singed black. Rocks crumbled at his feet, and still he moved on.

He walked for a good hour and a half, and finally he sat down upon a rock, head in his hands. What had happened to him? Where were all of these reservations coming from? Four months ago, he would have leveled that town without a second thought. Selfish, greedy thing, he'd been, but now he considered the others, and now he saw that he had no right to do anything of the sort.

But he'd never really thought of the people in the town… He'd never really _fully _acknowledged that sometimes, oftentimes, his art hurt people, killed people, and that effected those people's families and friends, and the ripple effect was in full swing here. He realized it now, though, and the bags of clay at his hips felt heavier than normal.

He stayed like that for a long time, figuring where he was. He was near the border of Grass and Waterfall. Resting his chin on his palm, he sighed insufferably. He had to move on. He had to go somewhere. He couldn't just sit and _rot _like he was. He'd suffered far worse setbacks than this, and he'd always crawled out of them fine. This was not the end of the world.

And yet…yes. Yes, it was, because what ever happened to that picket fence and the baby with the blond hair and green eyes with tiny little hand-mouths on its tiny little hands?

It was gone, that's where it was. And he'd never wanted a kid anyway, or a house with a picket fence, for that matter. He hated picket fences, in fact. They were cliché and useless.

He stood and turned to leave, to go back to the town that he'd been very ready to effectively _raze _not too long ago, but a spark of _something _on the very outskirts of his senses made him stop. Then the pinprick of sensation turned into something a little more evident, more apparent, and his muscles tightened instinctively. A shinobi approaching from the southeast, and he or she was moving _fast. _He didn't forget that he still was in the Bingo Book and thus still had a very _hefty _bounty on his head, so he masked his own chakra and took off, feeling very disinclined to fight an over-confident bounty-hunter.

He zigzagged through the trees and dropped down to the ground level occasionally, hoping to shove the shinobi following him off of his trail. They were very close, now, and he cursed silently, gritting his teeth. For all the years he'd been an active Akatsuki member and for all the times he'd had to evade attacking shinobi, this was the most persistent one yet. They should've dropped off a long time ago, about the time when he masked his chakra and started his erratic trajectory.

He feinted right and then darted left, and the shinobi didn't stray from him at all. They still moved at top-speed, even when Deidara ducked inside a shallow cave, strung with vines and moss and very, very moist. It didn't seem as if his follower noticed he'd changed course and stopped running, because they kept on, and eventually he could hear the crackle of branches as they approached.

He stopped trying to sense their chakra and held his breath, watching them from behind a curtain of bright green, creeping vines.

The shinobi burst from a flurry of branches and leaves, hopping deftly to the ground. They doubled over and panted, holding their stomach and brushing hair out of their face.

Pink hair.

"Fuck," they whispered, straightening, still gasping for breath, and glancing around their surrounding areas.

Green eyes.

"I know I felt him," she whispered to herself, pulling a canteen from her hip and taking a long drink.

_Sakura. _

He felt, for all rights and purposes, rooted to the spot. He could only watch her replace the canteen and tie her hair up, ready to dart off once again.

And then his adrenaline kicked in and his muscles decided to move again, because he let his chakra go unmasked and watched the flicker in her precise movements. She looked quickly in his direction, staring at the cave like she'd seen a ghost. She couldn't see him, but she could feel him. She'd always been sensitive to chakra.

She stepped carefully toward him, and he pressed himself against the back wall, three feet in. Was he scared? Like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar? No, he wasn't scared. He wanted to see why she'd come back, why she was looking for him. He wanted to see her reaction.

She stood in front of the entrance, now, and pushed aside some of the vines. The forest canopy with the addition of the cave's shade made only his outline visible.

She didn't come nearer, though. "Deidara?" she asked gently, and he thought he'd break down and grab her right then and there, because he didn't think he'd ever hear her voice again, _especially _not saying _his _name. He could stand up straight in the cave, it was more of a large burrow, actually, or an indentation in the rock, and so could she. She walked inside, one foot in, two feet, two and a half feet, and she was almost nose-to-nose with him.

With her eyes adjusted to the light she could probably see him now, dimly, and his eyebrows turned up, his mouth pulled down into a frown. He tried to talk, but he felt like someone had put cotton in his throat.

She touched her fingertips to his wrist, traced his thumb, and then moved both of her hands to linger above his chest. He watched only her eyes, which flicked up to meet his when she pulled her hands back. "I—" she started, then stopped, looking down at the cold, wet floor. "I don't have an excuse," she finished gently, quietly.

He didn't say anything and he didn't move, but he felt anxious and jittery. What if she moved at the last minute? Decided that she'd changed her mind and wanted to leave him again, dashed outside and out of his life again? He'd chase her this time if that happened. He'd chase her to the end of the earth and he'd take her back with him; to where, he didn't know. He wouldn't let her go this time. He _couldn't._ Second chances weren't an option.

He swallowed thickly, and it was loud in the silence. Sakura looked back up at him, and he suddenly felt a little self-conscious. He hadn't had a good night's sleep since they'd parted, and he hadn't showered for two days now. His hair was a mess and there was dirt on his neck and hands. But she didn't look too tip-top either, frizzy hair sticking out at all ends and dry, chapped lips. She'd probably been traveling for days, and for what? For him?

Realizing that he wasn't going to make the first move or respond to her explanation, she pulled off her backpack and dug something out of it. She pulled out the scope, wrapped in some white cloth, and handed it to him. He didn't move to take it.

"I thought…I should return this," she said, returning the scope to her own embrace and running her thumbs over the lens. "I'm not saying I don't want it, but…I figured you'd probably need it. You know?" She waited for a response, and when he didn't give one, she looked down at it, fiddling with it. "I took some pictures, but I don't know how to view them or delete them. I figured out how to use the night-vision and zooming capabilities, and I got to heat-vision once, but I couldn't get back again. It's definitely a nifty little thing."

She looked up at him, still watching his face, but he didn't relent. Her eyes roved over him, all of him, from his forehead to his toes, and she cocked her head to the side, taking a step backward.

"I kind of anticipated that you'd do something like this, and I can't say I blame you." She pulled open the pocket of his pants with a finger and then slipped the scope in carefully, and she patted it gently. "I understand that you don't want to talk to me. I guess I should… I should probably…" She took a deep, shaky breath, and laughed nervously. "I'll get out of your way. I'm sorry I scared you by following you, I just really wanted to catch up—"

And that was it. She was about to leave, and he wasn't going to have it. He grabbed her by the arms and tugged her forwards, folded his arms around her, pressed her to him and his back to the rock wall behind him. He clenched his fingers into the fabric of her shirt, buried his face in her hair, smelling of rocks and dirt and leaves.

She didn't return the sentiment at first, though she pressed her hands against the rock wall, not pushing off but not pressing into him, either. "I—"

"You're not leaving," he whispered harshly. "You're not fucking leaving me again." There was malice in his tone, but there was no threat behind it. There was only a stern sense of desperation, need, and he clenched his teeth tightly, closed his eyes tighter, so much so that they watered and stung. "You can't," he added, and his voice cracked.

She hugged him back finally, and she broke into a series of sobs and sniffles, faced buried into his chest. "I didn't come back to leave you again, Deidara," she whined. "I promise I didn't. I'm so sorry."

He slid to the floor, her still with him, and they sat on the cold, wet stone floor. "Then don't. Don't leave me ever again," he said, and his voice was stronger now that she'd showed weakness as well. "Stay with me this time."

She nodded into him, situated between his legs, her arms still tightly around him. She wept now, harder than he'd ever seen her cry, gasping and muttering apologies under her breath.

"Stay with me," he repeated, rocking them gently, talking into her hair. "Stay with me. Okay?"

"Okay. Okay."

Shadows clambered over the forest canopy, tiptoed along the ground, drowned the trees and the flowers and the grass and the shrubbery in a dark calm. The shadows didn't come into the cave. They passed over the top of it, slithered over the vines, but the cave was left unadulterated by their touch. And the nighttime-animals came, and five ants crawled over the rocks outside, and a moth fluttered inside the cave, settled on the ceiling, and then fretted back outside, in search of a source of light to rest upon. It flew around tree trunks and dipped under low-hanging vines, and the stars littered the sky in sated, gentle thousands, circling and complementing one another.

The moth hastened up into the night, toward the rounding moon.


	23. W is for Whilom

Found

**Found**

**W is for Whilom**

**A/N: **HOLY SHIT, the time flew by. There's no excuse for not updating for nearly half a year, but I hope you guys can forgive me. It's not over yet! I'm going all the way to Z, baby.

I also apologize for the short length of this chapter. Falling action sucks.

O O O

A raindrop wriggled out from a dark, plump cloud and scurried down through the sky, barely missing the tail feather of a passing bird. Determined, it jackknifed between leaves and branches and vines, hurtling toward the ground. The grass outstretched hungry blades of green, grasped wildly, blindly at its descent, fidgeted with anticipation as the raindrop fell in a straight, true path. It landed on a palm, though, a warm, sudden palm, and it was rolled in said palm, rubbed over fingers, around a thumb, until it was no more.

Sakura dropped her hand to her side and looked up at the cloudy sky. Another raindrop hit her nose, falling full-speed, and yet another spattered on her shoulder. Two fell on her lips and streaked carefully over the curve of them, and then the heavy rain cloud pulled opened with a sigh of thunder. Rain fell in growing sheets, now, a rapid drizzle that forced Sakura back into the small safety and warmth of the cave. The trees and bushes outside murmured their approval of the rain, while the sky above rumbled gently with release.

The earthworms emerged from their homes in the soil, treading out from beneath the layers of grass and laying out, thin, long, writhing bodies soaking up the moisture gluttonously. Mice and other vermin hurried off for refuge, hiding under broad leaves or under the gnarled roots of an old, lifted tree. Raindrops buzzed through the forest, and still the clouds growled in a sated, pleased manner.

"The rain is getting in here," Deidara said, pulling his knees to his chest and watching the curtain of grey fall steadily outside. "And it'll flood soon. We have to go someplace else, yeah." He picked himself up from the damp ground, brushed the dirt from him, and led Sakura outside into the rain.

The rain had been a quick thing, and on the way to one of the neighboring towns—Deidara couldn't say which—it stopped. Abruptly. It was as if Mother Nature had just decided that she was tired of soggy weather and wanted to put an end to it. Not that he minded at all, and he was certain Sakura didn't, either.

The walk was short, and quiet, and neither of them touched until about halfway through the trip. Sakura initiated it, a simple brush of her hand against his once, twice, three times, before Deidara urged her along by hooking his index finger through hers. She took his hand in hers without any further prompting. He felt okay. Everything, really, felt okay.

"It feels like it's over," he said quietly, looking up at the sky, walking slowly, squinting when the sun crawled out from behind a cloud.

"Depends on what you're referring to with 'it,'" she replied, not much louder.

"I don't know. Everything."

She made a noise of acknowledgment, and then turned the subject completely around. "I lost them, you know. All of them." When she stopped talking, the sounds of their footsteps in the grass filled the silence sufficiently. "My friends are gone. There's nothing for me there anymore."

"I figured that." His answer was short, perfunctory, and completely expected. When he glanced at her from the corner of his eye, Sakura was smiling in a melancholy manner that looked, if he really concentrated, something like relief.

It only took another ten minutes for the mood to lighten, and they began to joke and tease with each other, sadness and grievances forgotten for the time being. He was happy to be back to him and Sakura's old SNAFU, especially when she stuck her tongue out at him like that and dared him to chase her to the city edge, inside, and then under a general store's porch, where he drew her up into a kiss that gave the both of them full-body chills. Her back pressed against a wooden pillar, leaning until the wood splintered and groaned, kissing and touching, and whispering until the shop-keep came out and yelled for the both of them to take it elsewhere. Didn't they know there were children around? It was amazing, in retrospect, how bold Sakura had grown.

And so take it elsewhere they did.

The inn was by far one of the nicest they had ever taken residence, in terms of the time they'd spent together in the last almost-half-a-year. It was three stories tall, all polished wood and delicate paintings hanging on sturdy walls. The contrast of the solid, thick walls and the fragile, elegantly brittle decorations made Sakura feel oddly comfortable. She almost felt like she was home, wherever "home" was nowadays.

Deidara dropped a bag near the door, shuffled zombie-like to the four-post bed, and jumped up on top of the mattress so that he could purposefully fall hard against it.

Sakura smiled crookedly. "Don't shuffle. You're not old enough to shuffle."

"You know, it's bad when you have to actually jump just to be able to collapse on your own bed," he mumbled into the pillow, before lifting his head and propping his chin on his folded arms. "Or is that good?"

She let her own bag slip off of her shoulder, shoving it against the wall with a foot, and locked the door. A desk with a number of different pamphlets, blank writing pads, and complimentary pens with motivational sayings inscribed on them leaned heavily against the wall beside her bag. Sakura picked up one of the pens. "'Patience is the heart of perseverance.'"

Deidara scoffed at his pillow. "Is that so," he deadpanned.

"I kind of like these pens. 'Pain walks in hand with growth.' I'm taking this one. I wonder whose quotes these are. It's not cited."

"Sakura, some guy who gets paid 5,000 yen a pop sits in his lonely apartment and makes these up for a living. _I _could make them up, yeah."

Sakura crawled on the bed beside him, pinching his side and making him squirm. "Humor me."

"'Stay away from girls. They suck.'"

"Oh, now you're just being romantic."

He rolled unceremoniously on top of her, playing every part just the innocent party in this whole situation, and reached leisurely for a chocolate mint on the nightstand. "You know," he admitted, through half of a mouthful of chocolate, "these are really good, yeah." He swallowed and folded the foil wrapper into a ball, arching back and twisting his torso so that he could shoot the trash into a bin at the far end of the room. The wrapper bounced off the rim and rolled under the dresser. "I haven't had chocolate in a long, long time."

"In that case, I'm glad you saved me one," Sakura said, reaching for the second chocolate mint in Deidara's hand, but he unwrapped it quickly and popped it into his mouth.

"Oh, you wanted some? _Sorry,"_ he sang, grinning from ear to ear and leaning over her. "Maybe next time."

Sakura kissed him, open-mouthed and hard, pulling Deidara down by his hair. When she pulled back, the chocolate was in her mouth, and she chewed and swallowed, leeching every bit of satisfaction from the moment that she could.

"That's so disgusting. I hope you're enjoying my pre-chewed chocolate mint."

"It's not so disgusting when I've shared a toothbrush with you and your hands anyway. And yes, for the record, I'm enjoying your pre-chewed chocolate mint _immensely."_

He laughed, and it petered out when he rolled back to his original position at her side, face at her hair and nose pressed to her temple. There was a feeling of relief and long-awaited peace hanging over the both of them, of this Sakura was sure. It was the first time either of them had felt completely calm, their minds finally at rest, in a long, long time. There was still the backdrop of a war behind them, and they weren't out of the woods yet, not entirely, but they were so close that it felt just about like the real thing.

She rolled over to face him, and though his eyes were closed before, he opened them slowly.

"Deidara?" she whispered, though there was no one else to hear her.

He hummed in acknowledgment.

She continued, quiet, much quieter than she had possibly ever spoken in her life, "Do you still want to marry me?"

It took him a moment to answer, and for a split second, Sakura felt cold tendrils of doubt slip over her. But then he nodded almost imperceptibly and smiled. "Yeah."

She, herself, nodded as well, just as faintly, and smiled in return. "Okay."

When he kissed her this time it was slow and deliberate, like he was telling her a fairytale with the way his nose rubbed hers once and his fingers slipped to her arm and then her stomach. The last time she had seen Deidara handle something with so much fondness and tender ardor, he'd been sculpting a very familiar bust.

"When?" she asked, lifting her chin while Deidara made little marks on her neck with his mouth.

"When we find Kisame."

O O O

In the morning, they hitched a ride on a wagon—a wagon owned by the very same shop-keep, who glared at them something terrible and hollered for them to stay seated at all times and keep their hands, feet, and other appendages inside the vehicle at all times—in order to make it in sufficient time to the next town. Deidara didn't want to use his bird at the time, and Sakura didn't protest. At that point, they'd both decided that simplicity was best. And it didn't get any simpler than riding in a rickety old wagon, chewing on straw, while a grumpy old man snapped at them every time they so much as leaned against each other. "Newlyweds," he'd grumble, and then flick the reins, and the horse would speed up and the wagon would jerk and Sakura and Deidara would go tumbling.

This city, when they finally arrived, was significantly larger than any Deidara and Sakura had encountered. It was roughly half the size of Konohagakure—quite a feat for the little villages and towns and colonies out here—and probably twice the people. The sidewalks were paved with smooth cobblestone, worn down over the years so that only a stray pebble stuck out here and there. Stores lined the sidewalks, and hotels, and restaurants, and there was even a gym. In front of each building was a series of benches and shrubbery. On each street corner stood a rigid, lonely streetlamp, not yet lit for the night. The sun, however, was quickly setting.

Deidara looked at the buildings that lined the streets, the people walking by, dressed in expensive clothes and the occasional three-piece business suit.

And then Deidara looked down at his pants, torn in the knees; at his sandals, the soles rubbed down bare; at his shirt, worn ragged with a few gaping holes.

At that moment, Deidara turned to Sakura with her almost-new clothing and cringed. "I look like shit."

Sakura looked surprised for a moment. "You do?"

"You didn't notice?"

She gave him the once-over, tilting her head to the side, and then shrugged. "I guess I just didn't care. You want to buy some new clothes?"

He could feel a man carrying a leather briefcase stare him down as he passed, and that was the last straw. "Yeah. I do, actually." He dug into his pockets and produced a large sum of money, which he split with Sakura. "I'm going to run into one of these stores and buy myself a new outfit, yeah. Do you want to come?"

She pocketed the money and gazed longingly at a café across the street, complete with an outside patio, a newspaper rack, and large green umbrellas covering each table. "If you want me to. I wanted to catch something to eat, though. I haven't eaten for…I don't know, a while."

He shrugged noncommittally. He'd been without her for months at a time, so a few minutes spent out of her presence really wouldn't be _such _a big deal. "Alright. I'll meet you in that café in a couple minutes, yeah. Do you want me to get you anything?"

"No, I'm okay. Want anything from the café?"

"I'll order when I get there."

It was sort of an awkward conversation, Deidara realized belatedly, and they stood facing each other, rocking on the balls of their feet, for a couple seconds that grew steadily more uncomfortable as time ticked by.

"Well…okay," he mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck. "I guess I'll see you in a couple minutes, yeah."

"Okay."

He leaned in to give her a kiss, but he angled his head the same way she did, and when he turned his head the other way she did too, so they ended up knocking noses. It was a _painfully _inelegant kiss, especially since they were standing in the middle of the street and especially since all of the well-to-do people were staring. When he pulled away their lips made that cliché smacking sound, though, and this somehow made up for everything else.

She whispered "Bye," under her breath and then started walking away, and Deidara strolled casually inside a clothing store nearby.

Women. There were women everywhere, of all shapes and sizes, milling throughout aisles, holding blouses to their torsos and pants to their waists. Soft music was playing from small, unnoticeable speakers in the ceiling, but it was more of background noise, not so much drowned out by as _complemented _by the clinking of hangers and the gentle chatter of equally gentle female voices.

Did Deidara ever mention that he loved women? Especially homely women. There was something about a woman, fat, skinny, tall, or short that put him in a very restful state of mind. It had been a long time since he'd casually socialized with any other members of the opposite sex besides Sakura. And even then, with her, the circumstances were special.

Even the cashier was a woman. She was older, late thirties or early forties, and she waddled her plump self out from behind the register when Deidara approached. He noticed a golden wedding band on her ring finger, set with a small pink diamond.

"Can I help you with anything today?"

He glanced over the expanse of the store as though he was in some sort of hall of mirrors. There were so many clothes, even in the men's section! It wasn't that he'd never been shopping before, but the Akatsuki organization usually found ways of getting clothes _for _him. The newfound sense of independence was exhilarating, and at the same time, it calmed him. Things really had gone back to normal, whatever "normal" meant nowadays.

"Yes, I…uh." He didn't quite know what to ask for. Should he be bold and go for khakis and a snazzy sweater? A black turtleneck in the far corner was looking increasingly attractive. Maybe he should just play it safe and buy the customary tunic-and-slacks combo, with a netted undershirt.

Then again, khakis and the black turtleneck would fit him perfect. He could always get the black slacks and the grey quarter-sleeve. They even had shoes! Oh, he needed new shoes. There were some very striking, standard-issue black boots at the top of the "Half Off All New Boots!" display.

"Do you need help with anything?" she asked again, still smiling, still holding her ring like it was a particularly large trophy. He couldn't blame her, though.

"Yes. I was just looking for some new clothes."

"Alright, what did you have in mind? Were you interested in our argyle sweaters? The seasons are changing fast, after all."

There, in the women's section, was a red, ribbed pullover that would look perfect on Sakura. He had to get it.

"Actually, I was thinking of getting a gift for my—uh—fiancé, yeah." It felt nice to say that word. Too nice, in fact. Deidara felt a distinct, pleasant warmth flutter in his chest.

"Do you know her favorite color?"

"Red. That red sweater right over there." He pointed to it from across the store, smiling from ear to ear.

Twenty minutes later, Deidara emerged from the store with a fresh, new, clean outfit on. He'd bought the black slacks, grey quarter-sleeve, and boots for himself, as well as a fluffy, brown down jacket. It _was _getting cold, and he _could _afford to splurge…

For Sakura, in a separate, large bag, he'd bought the pullover, which would match the pants she currently had on _quite _nicely. Who cared if her hair clashed with her shirt? It didn't bother him, so it shouldn't bother anybody else. As for other clothing, she'd gotten a variety of brand new outfits from wherever she'd come from, including new shoes, so he'd bought her a pretty fits-all black dress in lieu of other garments he could have bought. He even included high heels and a black down jacket that he assumed was her size. He was so thoughtful. He should take her out to dinner tonight, light a few candles, find a jewelry store to buy her a ring, and do it right this time.

He shifted the bags more comfortably over his arm, proud of himself and his brand new clothing. He'd done well, considering he hadn't been shopping in a very, very long time.

He made a beeline for the café, a bounce in his step and a tune on his lips, spotting the familiar head of pink hair at a seat near the back entrance. She was laughing, smiling, he realized, as he drew closer, and…

…And who was that _man_ with her?

Deidara instantly felt a bit silly and very unmanly with several shopping bags slung over his arms, as well as confused, instantly angered, though at whom he couldn't tell, and just generally thrown into a very unnerving frame of mind. The change between moods made him feel a huffy lurch of queasiness, but he quickly shook it off. He marched right to the table and dropped the bags right beside Sakura, taking a quiet, calm seat.

"Hi," he said, interrupting Sakura and the stranger's conversation. The man had been speaking, but he looked to Deidara, his words falling short. He looked genuinely taken aback. Deidara could see the recognition in this man's stare, in the expression outlined in faint wrinkles that traced the corners of his lips and the creases around his eyes.

"Deidara," Sakura said around a smile. She angled herself toward him, and her right knee touched his left thigh. For some reason, this action alone enabled Deidara a modicum of composure. He stopped regarding the older man before him as an enemy and instead looked at him as exactly who he was: a stranger. He had a feeling, though, that the shinobi across the table knew quite a deal about _him. _The Konoha headband gave it away.

"This is an old friend of mine," Sakura continued. "He's from Konoha."

_Obviously._ Deidara kept his mouth firmly, shut, though, being a little more observant than was probably necessary. The newly introduced Konoha-nin began to smile very faintly and very slowly, with heavy eyelids. The face mask he wore to frame his face didn't do much to hide a few laugh lines. He glanced at Deidara nonchalantly; an unappreciated blasé manner. Deidara could feel his own blood boiling.

Said excessively indifferent man coughed into a fist, though it almost sounded fake. "My name is Yamato." He extended a friendly hand.

Deidara hesitated, and with good reason, he might add, but he finally gave in. The handshake was firm and short, and as masculine as humanly possible. Both partners retreated quickly when it was over, looking relatively put off by the nicety.

He decided to drop the alias, since this _Yamato _had already heard his real name from Sakura anyway. "Deidara," he replied shortly, if only to be polite. Not wanting to be outdone, he relaxed his shoulders and put on an air that evenly matched Yamato's dispassion.

"It's nice to meet you," Yamato said, in that smooth, genial, baritone voice of his. "I hadn't heard much about you from Sakura from our last meeting, but it seems you're the only topic she can think of since I've sat down." He ended this sentence with a temperate chuckle. A smug chuckle. What a pompous bastard. And to make things worse, Sakura laughed a little bit herself and reached across the table to shove him lightly in the shoulder, with a mock-indignant "Yama_to!"_ Yamato laughed too. Why did he have to sound so damn _pleasant?_

Sakura removed her knee from its comfortable place against Deidara's thigh so that she could lean her forearms on the table. "Anyway, I was just recapping what's been going on in the past few months. Between Deidara and I, anyway. Where I'd been." She drew shapes on the table with her index fingertip. "I couldn't tell you last time, but I _do _feel at full liberty to disclose my story now."

That was her coy voice. Sakura was using her coy voice on this suave son-of-a-bitch.

Deidara folded his arms and leaned back in his chair. His eyes never left Yamato.

"Anyway, Yamato," Sakura said, and Deidara hated, despised, absolutely _loathed _the way his name rolled off of her tongue, "I wanted to talk to you about something, but I wanted to make sure Deidara was here when I did."

Yamato leaned forward as well, folding his arms on the table. "Okay. Go ahead." And Deidara hated the way that Yamato's eyes stayed patiently trained upon Sakura.

"Have you talked to Hinata since you left the Hyuuga compound?" she asked, turning the conversation toward a more solemn road.

"No, I haven't. Is there something wrong?"

She frowned, and from under the table, she took Deidara's hand. Deidara's pride soared. There was no way in hell she couldn't see—_feel—_the tension between him and Yamato. "No, no, it's just…when you return to Konoha… I can't go back."

Yamato waited patiently for her to continue, not an ounce of sentiment on his face, and Sakura did so while rubbing her thumb over Deidara's knuckles.

"It's taken me a long time to decide, but… Naruto's gone, and Sai is gone, and Kakashi has _been _gone, and everyone thinks I'm dead anyway. What would my presence be to them? Do you think it would help matters at all?"

"No…" Yamato drawled, looking from Sakura to Deidara and then back again. Deidara tried very, very hard not to smirk. Kisame was always better at smirking anyway. "No, I don't think it would." He finally cracked a trace of a grin. "It could even further complicate the ordeal that Konoha has worked its way into." His voice dropped a little lower. As if the man _needed _a more seductive tone. "I think that, this time around, Konoha can survive fine without you, Sakura."

Sakura's hand fell lax in Deidara's. "Thank you, Yamato."

"There's nothing wrong with wanting to pursue a life elsewhere," he assured, shaking his head and bringing one hand up scratch his jaw, under his faceguard. "I can understand. If anyone deserves it, it's you. Furthermore, as far as I'm concerned, nobody has seen you since your disappearance."

"Yamato—"

He raised the other hand and bowed his head, and Sakura was silenced.

Deidara squeezed Sakura's hand, limp though it was.

"Don't mention it," he said, moving to stand. "It's the least I can do. I _will _have to leave you now, though. I was supposed to be out of the city by sundown."

Deidara turned and faced the setting sun. The city was colored light orange and shades of pink-violet. The throngs of people that had once walked the street, carrying their fancy clothes and fancy personas, had dwindled down to an odd teenager or lone middle-aged businessman. He was suddenly awfully proud of his humble upbringing. "Looks like you're running late, yeah."

"I am. It's been wonderful catching up, Sakura." He smiled at Sakura, widely, and the laugh lines showed up again, though they were far more endearing now that Deidara _really _looked at the guy. "And it was a pleasure meeting you, Deidara." The smile dulled considerably.

"The same," Deidara lied. Sakura stood up, and he followed her.

Yamato held out a hand for Sakura to shake, but she hugged him instead, a move that made Deidara frown and feel the need to roll his eyes, grab Sakura by the wrist, lead her back to a swanky hotel, and make sweet, sweet love with her until she remember just _who, _exactly, she was in love with. He was secure in the knowledge that they had a steady relationship going on, but could he be blamed if the thought of his fiancé hugging an attractive man from her past bothered him? Especially since she obviously had some sort of deeper connection with him.

Yamato looked awkward with the whole situation, and he hugged Sakura back very, very lightly. "I've loved having you in my company," he admitted, with a very quiet voice, maybe because he wanted to tease Deidara or maybe because he just wanted it to be a quiet confession. They both pulled back with a sighing rustle of clothing. "I'll miss all the years we've spent as a cell, you know."

"Yes. I know," Sakura said with a hollow laugh, and the fact that she was tearing up did not surprise Deidara in the least. He ran his tongue over his teeth impatiently. "I'll never forget those years."

"More are yet to come," Yamato said, sagely and wizened with his alluring voice and dashing good looks. His eyes were creepy, though, all sunk in and dark. That was one strike against him.

"I know," Sakura said, nodding. "I know. And the same to you."

Yamato held out a hand to Deidara after taking a deep, noticeable breath, and for the second time in less than ten minutes, Deidara shook hands with a man that he very deeply disliked.

"Take care of her," he said, sounding suspiciously vague and disgustingly cliché.

"I know," Deidara said, noticing that his hands were slightly larger than Yamato's. Childishness be damned—this was a very satisfying victory to him.

"Would you visit them? For me?" Sakura asked, as Yamato shoved his hands in his pockets. "Naruto, and Sai, and—"

"—All of them," Yamato finished for her. "Of course I will. I'll give them flowers for you and everything."

"Thank you. You know I mean that."

"I know."

It was a painful goodbye for Sakura, that he could see, but it was a relief for Deidara, as slimy as it made him feel. Yamato had been a momentary threat, whether he was an ex-teacher, an ex-boyfriend, or an ex-friend. Deidara did not enjoy threats.

"Do you think I'll see him again?"

Deidara didn't look at her, and he didn't answer her for a moment. She was crying, this he knew, though she was silent and passive, tears slipping down her face just as noiselessly as she stood there. Yamato could still be seen, walking down the street, hands in his pockets, but he was more of a speck against a brilliant backdrop of oranges and violets and reds than a clear representation of another piece of Sakura's life.

"Only if you want to, yeah." He surprised himself by how softly he spoke. He gave her a few moments to compose herself and gather her thoughts, well after Yamato had disappeared, before he sat down and prompted her to do the same.

Another moment of silence. Deidara sighed contentedly and pulled Sakura's bag into his lap.

"I didn't get a chance to tell you, but you look great," Sakura said, leaning on the table, head on her arms, looking almost bashful. "You sure know how to clean up."

"I could still do with a shower." He pulled the wrapped clothing out of the bag and pushed it in front of her. "This is for you. It's a winter coat, and a sweater, and a dress, and…some high heels."

Sakura pulled the items from the wrapping with an honest look of shock. It was a pleasant shock, though, and when she unwrapped the black dress and held it to her chest, she choked out a sob-tinged laugh. "You didn't have to. Really." She stuttered along a sentence, and the more flabbergasted she became, the wider Deidara smiled. "I mean…where would I wear it to? It's so nice, what if I wrinkled it? And you bought me _high heels _to match!"

"It's not that big of a deal," he mumbled, feeling a little bashful himself. "I just thought it'd look nice on you. You can where it whenever you want, yeah. I don't care if you wrinkle it or whatever."

She pulled the regular tunic she wore up over her head, revealing an almost see-through white undershirt. The red sweater replaced the tunic, and she stood up the smooth out the creases. Deidara had been right in his choice; the sweater _did _look good on her, color be damned.

When she sat back down, she moved her chair closer beside him and gave him a soft kiss on the cheek. The sentiment said much more than any full-on make-out session ever could, and Deidara felt, for the first time in a long time, butterflies in his stomach. He was engaged to this woman. He'd slept with this woman, shared secrets with this woman, been entrusted with secrets in turn, and if things worked out well in the end, which he was positive they would, he'd be spending his life with her. Normally, the thought would have been repulsive to him, to settle down with _anyone, _but now…now it didn't seem so bad. He'd had his fair share of the high life, and he'd most certainly lived the low life. A life for him that settled somewhere perfectly in between was now more than overdue.

Deidara ordered them some food, two soups and two salads, and they ate in almost complete silence. It was funny, though, because the silence didn't bother him a bit. It was actually quite comforting. If they'd run out of things to say, that was fine. They'd figure out more of the little details somewhere along the way.


	24. X is for Xanadu

**Found**

**X is for Xanadu**

O O O

From the café, they caught another hotel room, a little cheaper this time, and then when morning came, they both headed in a decidedly northward direction, toward where Deidara assumed Kisame had taken residence. He'd want to be near the ocean, that was for sure, and Kisame had always loved the northern countries. Ever since Kisame and Deidara had first grudgingly met the man seemed so inclined to drift northward, always volunteering for assignments that took him that way or required a passage over any body of water. Maybe it was the shark in him.

"It's like we're just jumping from town to town," Sakura said, _one single complaint since they'd started the journey, _and Deidara was surprised, to say the least.

"Is that a bad thing, yeah?" he asked, making a mental note that she'd been suspiciously quiet since parting with Yamato. And he hadn't even been able to take her out for a nice dinner that night or buy her a ring. He had, admittedly, ogled a few jewelry stores--even strayed inside one--but the price tags on each item had burned decent-sized holes in his retinas, and he'd since disposed of the idea of buying an expensive ring in an even more expensive city. Maybe in the next city he'd find a nicer, cheaper one.

Kakuzu cackled at him from beyond the grave. Deidara winced.

"No," Sakura said on a sigh, drawing him away from his thoughts. "I do miss the bird sometimes, though. How long do you think until we actually get to Kisame, if we don't use the bird at all?"

"Eh." He glanced surreptitiously at a raven as it hopped along the path beside them, stopping once to pick up a beetle in its beak. "We have to get back on the bird once we get to Waterfall's borders. I wouldn't feel safe traveling on foot through there, yeah."

"Yeah, I know," she grumbled, and she smacked a mosquito, terminating its unsuccessful attempt to stick a filthy proboscis into her squeaky clean arm. "Just whereabouts do you suppose Kisame is?"

"_Well," _he drawled, putting a hand to his chin. He'd replaced the scope a while back, and the sound of it whirring softly behind the thick, freshly washed, clean fringe of bangs comforted him, oddly enough.

"That's oddly comforting," Sakura mumbled, and Deidara's stomach did an immature little somersault. At that moment he knew Sakura was The One, The Big Catch, and other proper nouns that indicated she fit him perfectly. The ex-Akatsuki, the deprived artist, the sick, bizarre man that captured Gaara and lost a couple arms in the process, was now the lover, the boyfriend, the significant other, the soon-to-be-legal-husband, and just about everything in between, to the Konoha med-nin, Haruno Sakura.

It wasn't that he couldn't classify their relationship because he didn't _know _or was _confused _about something; he could classify it simply because the relationship in question fell under too many categories. And maybe, most importantly, she offered friendship that he was thankful to have found. Positive that she felt the same way, it made for quite the nice feeling.

"Hey, did you even _hear _me?" she demanded, stopping in front of him and poking his chest. "I'm not going to repeat myself."

"Sorry, yeah. What did you say?"

She pouted, harrumphed, crossed her arms, and continued on her merry way. "No. It's too late now."

"What?" He gaped after her, and then caught up, falling in step with her stride. "Come on, I was thinking. Sorry. Just tell me what you said, yeah."

"You didn't even give me the decency to listen," she sniffed, mock offended. He could tell she wasn't being serious, and Deidara relaxed. "Rude."

"If you _must _know, I was thinking about _us, _and how amazing you are in every possible way, yeah," he said, almost purring, pulling the flattery card.

Sakura gave in on a fake sigh. She hadn't really been mad in the first place. He loved it when she played games; he had to admit it.

"I said, 'do you remember when we were on that boat, and we sailed from that huge peninsula to a smaller one, through Waterfall's gulf? I've got a hunch that Kisame's living on that bigger peninsula. It's neutral territory, it's close to the ocean, and it's north. It's the only lead we have.'"

"It makes sense." He shrugged. He'd been thinking the exact same thing. "And it's not like we have a choice either way. But…what would make you think he'd want to live there? I don't remember him mentioning anything to you that would make you assume the fact, yeah."

Sakura fell quiet, pouting her lips and looking coy. God, he _loved _the coy face. And the coy voice. Coy Sakura was almost better than sex. _Almost._

"Sakura?"

"Kisame and I had gotten pretty close on the boat," she confessed, putting a purposeful swagger to her step. "He told me _lots _of things."

Deidara huffed. "You were getting cozy with Kisame at the same time that you were getting me hard every time I turned around?"

"Hey, don't say it like that," she laughed, shoving him in the shoulder. "I just communicated better with Kisame than I did with you."

"That's hurtful." A corner of his mouth slumped into a half-frown.

"Why?" She tugged on a strand of his hair playfully. "Kisame and I were great friends at the end of it. And look who I ended up with." She smiled.

He waved a dismissive hand. "Yeah, yeah. Resign yourself to your fate and all that."

"Don't be that way," she said, exasperated, walking backwards in front of him. When she stopped, he did too. _"Who_ did I cross countries for? _Who_ did I risk life and limb for? _Who_ did I agree to marry?"

"Me."

She pressed herself against him, still smiling, and gave him a kiss that lingered far too long on his lips. "If I've done for you what I have done for no one else, there must be something between us."

He stepped purposefully away from her, yawning. His lips were still secretly tingling. "Unrequited love, yeah. It sucks."

She laughed and grabbed him by the arm. "Don't play hard to get. It doesn't work with me."

They spent the rest of the walk to the next town, wherever that may have been, holding hands and kissing and rubbing each other's arms and joking around and doing things that generally signified newlyweds. Except they weren't exactly married yet, though Deidara planned to fix this fact as soon as possible.

The last town they'd been in, the posh, lush one with the green and white café and the people in business suits, dwarfed the ragtag jumble of buildings approaching on the horizon. It sat humbly surrounded by a corrugated iron fence, and Deidara could easily survey the east end of this town to the west from where he stood. A fence protected the entrance to the spread, but no guards stood sentry at the gate. In fact, there _was_ no gate, just a break in the fence signifying the entrance, as well as a wooden board with a red arrow pointing inside, exclaiming in loud white letters: "Welcome to Ubasawa!"

"It's _tiny," _Sakura remarked, and upon stepping inside the town gates, another sign hung directly before them. "But they have a candy shop! Come on, let's go inside."

The candy shop, literally titled "The Candy Shop," did not have very much candy. It did have, though, quite a few psychedelic neon posters and black lights. In fact, the only candy Deidara saw in the entire shop—free, as an added bonus—sat righteously in a basket on the cashier's desk, all shaped like small, erect…

Deidara squinted at the penis candy. "Why is the candy shaped like a penis?"

The cashier squinted at Deidara. "Why is your penis shaped like the candy?"

He had a point, sort of. In some abstract way.

"Are you two looking for anything in particular?"

"Candy," Sakura said, and Deidara could see that she was trying very hard not to look at the cashier, Deidara, the candy on the desk, or anything else, for that matter. "…That's not shaped like a penis."

"We have more in the back," the man said, and he stood, motioning for Deidara and Sakura to follow. He moved aside the black curtain, and they wandered in behind him. The back of the shop sprawled an area easily four times bigger than the front, with wares lining each wall and clinging to displays set on the floor. "Our novelty candy is on that back shelf. Call if you need me, or bring your purchases to the desk."

The man left. Sakura stared at a dildo very near her left hand, vibrating wildly in its scandalous packaging.

"It's calling out to you," Deidara whispered, earning him a solid smack on the shoulder.

"This is a _sex_ shop!" she hissed. "I thought it was a _candy_ shop!"

"So did I, yeah," he mumbled, sneering at a multitude of fake orifices shaped into various entities. A sheep, a person's fist, a knothole on a fence, a nostril, an ear… The vulgar list went on.

After a series of immature and inappropriate comments courtesy of Deidara and an extensive blush courtesy of Sakura, they sidled out of the store, trying desperately not to make eye contact with the shopkeeper. Their precautions perished in vain.

"Are you sure you don't want to buy our newest vibrator?" he called over the top of a magazine. Suddenly, neither Sakura nor Deidara wanted to know _what _kind of magazine it was. "'Flutter.' It's half off!"

Sakura looked at Deidara, but Deidara looked the other way quickly. Engaged or not, there _were_ still certain embarrassing topics not yet breached between them. He would not pee in front of her, for one. For two, he would not burp or pick his teeth in front of her; he held his dignity in high regard. And for three, he would not discuss Sakura's private goings-on—whether they truly existed or just floated about his concocted fantasies—with her. Some things just needed confidentiality. He didn't want to know when or if Sakura masturbated—really, _did _she?—and he was sure she didn't want to know when he…did it. Did she even know? He couldn't remember if he'd—

"Um. N—no thanks," Sakura stuttered, uncharacteristically, and tugged on Deidara's arm. "We were just browsing anyway."

"Well, then, have some of this candy. It'll go stale if I don't give it all out by tonight."

"No, we—"

But it _was_ candy and Deidara loved candy, so by the time they walked out the door, shop bell jangling innocently, Deidara's left pocket was stuffed full with Gummi Penis Brand Candy. He decided, as he periodically popped the candy into his mouth and occasionally attempted to shove one into Sakura's tightly closed mouth, that he needed some _real _candy from a _real _candy shop.

Despite the stereotypical scarcity of small town fare, they did find a candy shop. And, after reassuring that _yes, _it was a candy shop and not, in fact, a sex shop in clever disguise, they tiptoed in and sampled every piece of candy readily available. Deidara held a sneaking suspicion that the elderly woman at the counter knew when fingers slinked into the candy tubs, but if she did happen to notice, she didn't say anything.

They emerged from the store ultimately triumphant. Deidara held, in his hands, a one-pound box of chocolate truffles. Sakura pretended not to care that he clutched a veritable sweets goldmine in his palms, but he knew. Oh, he knew. He didn't miss the sideways glances.

"You _know," _he drawled, opening the box and waving it under her nose, "you can have some if you want."

She snorted. "Of course I can have some. What, you think I'd let you have them all to yourself?"

Deidara arranged a penis atop one of the long, flat truffles. "This is a true work of art," he mused, deliberately ignoring her question. That question bordered the rhetorical, anyway. "A masterpiece, yeah." Afterwards he tossed the creation into his mouth, replacing the lid on the box. Before he could say anything else to tease Sakura, she grabbed the box from him and shoved it into her shirt. It was a mystery how she managed to keep it from falling out.

"You're _going_ to _share,"_ Sakura said firmly, and she took off toward the outskirts of town laughing. He followed her, but he made sure not to overtake her until they sprinted into a massive field of wildflowers. Old pollen long left over from summer and stray petals and leaves kicked up around their shins as they ran, and butterflies mirroring the full color spectrum, quietly alit on the flowers, flitted into the sky at the disturbance.

As Sakura drifted to a stop somewhere in the midway point, she ditched the box and grabbed Deidara by his collar, pulling him to the ground and falling with him. The force knocked the breath out of his lungs, especially when she landed on him, but he tried not to make a big deal out of it because—quite unexpectedly—she pressed her lips to his in hurried, prolonged movements. Deidara's arms wrapped almost instinctually around her upper back, and he returned the kiss in kind, chocolates and penis candy forgotten.

Wildflowers towered over their heads, curled seductively around their limbs, and the petals and pollen still settled carefully all around, dusting them both with fine dots of feathery gold. More than once he felt a sneeze tickling in his nose, but he held them back and concentrated on the task at hand, that task being a very passionate Sakura.

"What brought this on, yeah?" he began to ask, when she absolutely stunned him by pulling off her shirt. Her bra was black. Not lacy. Oh, well.

"Just happy," she muttered shortly, shrugging, running fingers down his chest and underneath his shirt. She helped it over his head as she sat straddling him. "Happy that I'm with you right now. I don't want to think about where else I would be."

"No regrets?" he asked.

"None. Though I could have done without the abuse in the beginning." She gave him The Eye, but she didn't look too torn up about it. Not anymore, anyway.

"Yeah, well… Sorry."

She nuzzled his neck—she reminded Deidara of a cat pining for affection—and proceeded to give him what would very likely be the biggest hickey he had ever received. One kiss on the neck led to two, and then Sakura was sporting some blooming bruises of her own. He had three times the advantage that she did, though, with those extra mouths on his hands, and he used them to full benefit. When he finally took a second to look at her, he almost laughed. If _this _didn't tell the people she was taken or otherwise engaged in some sort of relationship, _nothing _would.

"This seems like kind of an inappropriate for sex," Deidara said as tactfully as he could (while currently trying very hard not to jam himself inside her and fuck her six ways from Sunday. And that wouldn't be very romantic.) She was acting a little more fervent than usual, like she just couldn't get enough of him. At first he thought that was just because they'd been reunited after a long—_too _long—separation, but now it just left him a little confused. Had she come to her senses and finally realized what a mind-blowing lover he was? Surely that was it. Or maybe her hormones were just going haywire on her.

"I don't care," she said, and by the way she was looking at him, she _clearly_ wanted him to go ahead with his plan involving jamming and six different ways. Maybe not so much jamming as…_easing, _though.

But no. Sakura, ever the opportunist, insistently ran light paths down his hipbones, dipping under his pants, dominating despite being underneath him. Deidara groaned, loudly, but when he threw his arms over his face, he disturbed a group of butterflies. They fluttered up in a flurry of color and away and tangled in Sakura's hair, and after a second of panicking, she managed to free herself from them, sending the flustered trio deeper into the tall grass. Then, to Deidara's immense pleasure, she continued. Or she pretended like she was going to continue, anyway.

This was no time for teasing. He would be _pissed_ if someone happened to find and interrupt them. He hadn't expected the situation to progress any past love-bites and sweet nothings, but now she was taking it to a whole new level. He watched the trio of butterflies return, and then another group of three flew overhead, but he paid no mind, because Sakura pulled his length _out of his pants _and she _wasn't even touching it anymore, _so _why did she pull it out in the first place. _Damn it.

"Sakura," he panted, half out of exasperation and half because if she didn't stop teasing him he was going to climax right there, skin-to-penis contact or not, and it would get all over her stomach, therefore lowering the glamour factor by about a million points. "You—"

Then he saw it. One butterfly, on his penis. Like it was a fucking spring flower. Horrified for a brief second, he proceeded to panic, much as Sakura had with the butterflies in her hair, batted the purple-and-yellow monstrosity away, and then promptly lost his erection. Maybe that would dissuade Sakura from trying to have sex with him in a field of butterflies.

Before either of them could speak or laugh about the situation, the skies darkened and a thick blanket of multicolored butterflies coated their skin, the whole field darting in at them at once. The insects pelted relentlessly against the hapless couple, sticking in their hair and flapping past their ears. Deidara could hear Sakura alternating between screaming and laughing. The situation was so horrifically humorous.

"I can't see! _Shit!"_ he yelled, trying vainly to clear a path through the butterflies. The fluttering sound nearly drowned out all other noises.

"I think this was a bad idea!" Sakura yelled back, and eventually they both just sat down in defeated, half-naked slumps and waited out the storm.

The barrage didn't last long. Less than five seconds later, the only butterflies remaining struggled across the field and occasionally whacked into Deidara or Sakura's head.

Mood thoroughly ruined and mood sufficiently killed, Deidara sighed. He declared, as Sakura picked a hairy caterpillar off of his equally hairy leg—though the leg hairs were blond so it wasn't like it was _unattractive _or anything, he assured himself, unlike Itachi's monstrosities—that he felt very tired of anything and everything even minutely related to butterflies. They pulled on their clothing, laughed some more, and wandered back into town.

Ubasawa offered them no more novelties besides a small water fountain full of (possibly toxic) gunk. After buying two canteens and two bagels, they continued down the road toward the next town, presumably toward where Kisame _presumably _resided. Presumably.

The cold steadily penetrated the warmth of their clothes the further north they traveled, passing through town after town as the sun swam a lazy path through the graying clouds. Sakura put on her jacket and Deidara beamed, feeling all too proud of himself.

At one point, they stopped at a rest stop and sat down on a bench, leaning on each other. Attempts at a conversation sat stubbornly in the air, but each and every one fell to silence, because all they really wanted to do was sit there. Deidara's feet hurt like hell, and he was sure Sakura's didn't feel a whole lot better. He began to calculate exactly when and where he could conjure up that bird of his when an elderly man wandered into his range of vision. And when he said "wandered into his range of vision" he really meant "stopped two inches in front of him and stared into his face."

"…What?" Deidara asked, leaning away. The old man smelled like too much incense and too little laundry soap.

"Would you be interested in a bag of goods?" the man asked, pulling out a raggedy bag and plopping it on the bench in between Deidara and Sakura. "It's handmade jewelry. I'm also selling, for a limited time, homemade bleach. The best this side of the country, I assure you."

Sakura laughed, not unkindly, but Deidara didn't feel amused in the least. "Come on, what are you trying to pull? Get out of here."

"Why, I'm but a humble traveling salesman," the old man answered, half on a gasp, and scooted the bag more toward the visibly appeasable of the two. "Wouldn't you like some beautiful jewelry, young lady? You'll dazzle the young men with a stunning necklace."

"The only one she's going to be _dazzling—"_

"Sure, I'll take it," Sakura relented, smiling, and she handed over whatever change she had left. The man took the money, thanked her for her patronage, and high-tailed it out of the rest stop. He disappeared just as quickly as he'd come, leaving Deidara more than a little confused and disoriented.

"What the hell was _that_ about?"

"He was just trying to earn a buck," Sakura said on a shrug, and she dug through the contents of the bag. "Yeah, these definitely _look _homemade."

"Why would you give up the money? We don't exactly have much as it is, yeah."

"Oh, Deidara, you stole it anyway." She shuffled through a handful of cheap jewelry, picking out a ring set and an old necklace in dire need of cleaning. "Haven't you heard the taboo? You can never keep what's not yours."

Deidara folded his arms and prepared to brood. He saw Sakura slip something sparkly onto her hand, though, and this caught his attention sufficiently. "What're you doing?"

"The ring fits," she said, admiring the undoubtedly fake golden band on her finger. She pulled the ring's twin out of the pile of jewelry and admired that, too. "I think this is a set."

Deidara took the ring from her, and something in his heart fluttered uncomfortably in response. If it fit, then they'd finally have something—even something as small as _this—_to validate the engagement. He drew in an unnecessarily deep breath, heavy with anticipation.

"Does it fit you?" Sakura asked, and by the tone of her voice—quiet, anxious—he could tell she felt the same tumultuous emotions as he did.

He slid it over the tip of his left ring finger. It wouldn't even go past his knuckle.

Sakura frowned. Deidara made an unsatisfied noise in his throat. "No. Not even close."

"You could always wear it on your pinky," she offered, hopeful.

"No. It's not the same." The disheartened droop of his mood overtook him unexpectedly. Why the melancholy over a bit of tin gone wrong when he'd been planning on buying proper rings? That had been very high on his priority list, hadn't it?

Yes. But he couldn't help but think about the possible symbolism in this. Damn his artistic propensities, and damn Sakura for looking just as unhappy about the ring situation as he did.

"We _could_ put them on chains," Sakura said after a moment, picking out two faux-gold chains from the pile and attempting to untangle them.

"Isn't that more of a 'best friends forever' thing?" Deidara countered, not at all fond of the idea for personal reasons.

"I think so." Her laugh was completely unwarranted. "Actually, I had a best-friends necklace with my old best friend when I was a kid. But we had two halves of a silver ladybug, and these are obviously two wedding rings. I don't think the connotations are the same, Deidara."

After a bit of coaxing on Sakura's part and a heaping serving of complaining on Deidara's part, the two marched away from the rest area with matching necklaces. Deidara was embarrassed. And emasculated. And he felt like a huge idiot. Despite all this, though, he couldn't stop himself from stealing a couple glances at her neck, where the old, slightly dilapidated ring swung loosely on the chain. He'd long since tucked his own necklace beneath the collar of his shirt, but every so often he'd tug the chain to make sure it hadn't fallen off.

The marshes gave way to solid ground and fields of wild grass many footsteps ago, and now all those fields slowly melted into sparse woodland. The barks of the trees were white and grey; the frail branches dotted with colored leaves. The ground, blanketed with oranges and browns and yellows and reds, crunched as they walked. The air certainly held a colder bite, and the climate change registered immediately. Deidara soon followed Sakura's earlier actions and donned his own jacket, his bags now significantly lighter. Any civilian that they happened to see walking past bundled up warmly, the men wearing long, thigh-length trench coats and the women wearing flared pea coats. Just about everyone wore a cap and a scarf. _Definitely_ in the northern countries now.

"I think it might snow," Sakura said, watching her breath come out of her mouth in a puff of warm vapor. "That would be nice."

Deidara scoffed and, for the millionth time, fiddled with his necklace, now hidden deeply in the confines of his winter jacket. "Snow? _Nice? _Have you even been to the northern countries?"

"Yes. But not in the winter."

"Snow is not 'nice.' _Especially _not up here, yeah."

"We never got snow in Konoha. I mean, we _did,_ but it didn't usually stay. It melted as soon as it hit the ground, or it melted the very next day. We never got more than about six inches at a time."

"You don't know what you're missing," he bit back sarcastically, rolling his eyes. "I lived in Iwa for a good damn part of my life. I hated shoveling snow. I hated how cold it was, yeah."

Sakura laughed. A woman walked past the pair, holding armfuls of shopping bags. Her cheeks were flushed from the cold, and she glanced warily up at the sky. "Does the cold weather freeze your clay?"

"If I leave it out. It's at my hips constantly, though, and the bags are insulated. They're also waterproof, yeah."

"It's good to be prepared."

"Obviously. I'm not stupid, you know."

It didn't take long before the clouds emptied a small flurry of snow upon the earth below, quickly coating Sakura and Deidara with fine white powder. They stopped at a remote ski lodge—not yet renting skiing supplies—that was happy to hand out cheap hot chocolate, coffee, tea, soup, maps, scarves, beanies, and gloves. Sakura and Deidara each bought a pair of wool gloves; Sakura bought the scarf. Deidara, typical, complained that he didn't very well _need _a scarf, thanks, because he was already well accustomed to the colder northern environment. At which point Sakura called him a great outdoorsman and Deidara refused to buy her a cup of hot egg drop soup. (He ended up buying it anyway.)

They also picked up a map, which Sakura kept tucked safely in an inner pocket in the coat—once again, Deidara applauded himself for such ingenious decisions in fashion—and Deidara purchased some steaming green tea in a plastic cup. They left the main building with accomplished attitudes and red extremities as the cup passed back and forth between hot hands, veering off the main path and into the more forested part of the area.

Deidara led her a few miles out of the way, deeper into the increasingly deciduous backwoods. The trees began to bunch together and the snow fell faster, though not harder. Snowflakes stuck determinedly in Sakura's hair and eyelashes, although Deidara rubbed his eyes every so often, because men didn't _do_ such things as get snowflakes caught in their eyelashes.

Sakura brushed the snow off a tree stump and sat down, crossing her legs and sipping at her soup gingerly. Sitting comfortably on the stable perch, she watched Deidara work out whatever he needed to do to summon that great big bird of his.

Deidara had never been happier to see that damn bird in his life. He climbed atop it and waited for Sakura to join him. As it was, she was busily finishing the rest of her soup and staring at the map.

"We just passed through Otaru," she said, after finishing her soup and folding the paper bowl into a ball. "Where did you say we wanted to ultimately end up?"

"Rumoi. If Kisame's anywhere, he's there. It's a huge port town. Big fishing economy, yeah."

"What makes you so sure? And what if you're wrong?" Quickly replacing the map within her jacket, she joined him on the bird, wrapping her arms around his middle.

"'Kenji' has been advertising," Deidara muttered, and the bird took off, climbing high enough that its belly didn't scrape the trees, but low enough so that Deidara and Sakura weren't soaked by the clouds. The bird stayed over remote areas, thankfully, without Deidara having to instruct it.

"Advertising? Advertising what?"

"'Eye of the Shark,' a locally owned fishing business and café in Rumoi. Run by none other than Yoshida Kenji himself. I saw a flyer in the ski lodge, and that restaurant in the fancy town had some coupons for it on the counter."

Sakura laughed out loud. "Kisame? _Kisame _owns a fishing business? And a _café? _I never would have guess. That guy's got such a huge hard-on for battle all the time."

"Don't get ahead of yourself, yeah. It could just be a coincidence. But we might as well take the chance." He spared a glance back at her from the corner of his eye, raising an eyebrow. "Besides, Kisame's not _just _interested in fighting, you know, even if it is his strong point. He's not some battle-obsessed lop, yeah." So she didn't know Kisame as well as she said she did. Well, she might have gotten close with him, but she didn't know him better than Deidara. That was a definite certainty.

Sakura just smiled, shook her head, and buried it in Deidara's back. Deidara lowered his face to shield it from the snow, wishing he'd bought one of those scarves right about now. His cheeks stung and his lips and nose felt numb in the freezing air. Improvising, he zipped the collar of his jacket all the way up over his nose.

A couple hours later the increasingly violent weather forced them to land; the bird was starting to freeze and get wet and slippery. They camped out for the night deep inside a cave, sleeping in their new jackets and huddled around the fire. The bird stayed too, thawing beside the campfire, and Deidara and Sakura propped their packs up against the clay feathers and slept. Deidara woke up periodically during the night to add more wood to the fire, but a couple times he'd catch Sakura doing it, smile to himself, and go back to sleep.

When they awoke, they allowed themselves to laze until about noon when the temperature had warmed, and then took off again. It wasn't long before the forests dimmed and the coastline came into view, and then the ports, boats, heavy with snow, floating tethered to land.

"I like this place," Sakura decided, wrapping her scarf tighter around her. The people here wore _snowsuits_, not just the coats and caps that they'd seen in Otaru. Deidara felt severely underdressed. Again.

"It's cold," he replied simply, and post landing they proceeded to ask around for this café known as "Eye of the Shark."

Turns out it wasn't a very popular place, and it was very, very new besides. It was also rather in the slums of Rumoi, if the Rumoi slums could really even be _classified _as such. Deidara had seen much worse. They managed to catch an old man already on his way to the café—_bar, _actually; it turned out that Deidara had read all those fliers wrong—who happily allowed them to follow on his way. He led them down several alleys, and finally down a small flight of stairs. The door to the bar laid propped half-open, and the windows were yellowed and frosted over. A large wooden sign hung above the entrance reading "Eye of the Shark" with a small subtitle of "Kenji's Place" painted on. There was also a comically drawn shark, as well as what looked like a child's drawing of a mermaid.

Deidara snorted and grinned from ear to ear. "Mr. Mermaid makes his comeback."

Sakura elbowed him playfully. "Quit it, or I'll start calling him Mako again."

Deidara's grin dropped. "Please don't."

The old man pulled open the heavy door and shuffled inside, claiming a seat among a table of other elderly gentleman. Each held a pipe or a cigar between their lips, puffing away over a game of cards and between swigs of warm alcohol. Besides the old men, though, there were only a few stragglers here and there. The place was small, and almost empty.

"Looks like the bartender's out," Sakura mumbled, sitting down at one of the many vacant tables. Deidara followed.

"We might as well wait," he mumbled right back, rubbing his nose with his hands to warm it up.

"What if it's not…the Kenji we know?"

He sighed, rubbed his nose one more time, and then shrugged. He didn't want to think about the possibility. Would they stay here anyway? Would they be _safe _here? None of the options were ones he wanted to consider. "I don't know. We'll figure it out as soon as we figure out who, exactly, owns this damn bar, yeah."

One of the older patrons suddenly looked up and toward the front door, which swung open roughly. "Kenji, you made it back!" Every old man in the bar stood, snuffing their cigars and setting down their pipes. "What did you decide to bring us today, boy?"


	25. Y is for Yin

**Found**

**Y is for Yin**

**A/N: **These next two chapters are short because I had to break them up into two.

Enjoy the end of _Found, _and thank you for sticking with it. I had a lot of fun.

O O O

Sakura was transfixed on the door, blocking her view of the man behind it. Deidara was transfixed on the geriatrics currently crowding said door and further obscuring their views. Said geriatrics were transfixed on Kenji, who stood beyond the door.

Deidara stood up, but Sakura put a hand on his arm. _"Move, _grandpa," he muttered, visibly grinding his teeth.

Sakura glared at him. "Sit down. Don't make a scene. If it is Kisame, we can't let on that we know him. It could blow his cover."

"I know," he snapped, "but the suspense is starting to piss me off, yeah."

"It would look _weird _if we just marched up to him like we were expecting him," Sakura countered, satisfied when Deidara sat back down, his eyes still glued stubbornly to the event unfolding before them. "We're new to the city, remember?" The cold from the wide open bar door forced a shiver down Sakura's spine at that moment, and she let go of Deidara's arm. "Let's just wait a second." She stuck her hands inside her pockets and bounced her legs impatiently.

Finally, after what felt like hours upon agonizing hours, the crowd began to file outside, one by one. The returned seconds later dragging big plastic tubs, setting them inside the bar and stacking them against a wall. Two men carried an enormous snow crab, setting it unceremoniously atop a table. It was still dripping water, though its thick legs and massive claws lay limp. By the time all of the old men had finished carrying in the supplies, there were four plastic tubs stacked along the wall, one large snow crab and two smaller ones, ten bottles of sake and twenty bottles of shocho, and a barrel each of whiskey and plain beer.

"Wow," Sakura said, eyeing the shipment that had been dumped inside the bar. "Looks like Kenji's stocking up for the winter, huh?"

But Deidara didn't answer. He was _trembling _out of anxiety. Or maybe he was just shivering from the cold. Either way, it was very obvious that the tension was killing him.

"_Kenji, _holy cow, you got so much stuff this time!" A very familiar voice struck Sakura, and she turned toward it. A young boy, wearing an apron that had "Eye of the Shark" scrawled sloppily across it in marker, skidded across the floor of the bar. Suds clung to his hands, which he wiped off on his apron. He stood on his tiptoes, surveying everything that had been brought in. "You caught snow crab this time? And where'd you get all these bottles of sake? Holy cow, Kenji, _holy cow!"_

"Deidara," Sakura hissed, the hair on the back of her neck standing on end. "Deidara, I recognize that kid."

"Me too," Deidara said, stiff, staring at the boy intently. His eyes widened after a second and he looked frantically at Sakura. "It's that one kid, from the port town! He had the fishing pole in the woods. The mermaid kid!"

Sakura laughed out of sheer excitement, and her limbs felt light. Her mind was working quickly, making her feel only a little light-headed. "There is no _way _this is just a coincidence anymore, Deidara," she said, tugging on his arm once more.

"Shh. Just watch," Deidara said, though he was smiling as well.

Kenji finally appeared, carrying in a myriad of fishing supplies. He was dressed from head to toe in a thick grey jumpsuit, and the hood of the jacket underneath it was pulled up over his head. He was turned away from Deidara and Sakura, and he set the fishing supplies down near the plastic tubs.

"I went out early today," he said, pulling the hood back. "And decided to pick up some things we're running low on." His voice…

Disappointment after disappointment had steeled her for this, and Sakura expected that she wouldn't react so violently. But she did. She jumped up from the table, much to Deidara's protest, and dove at Kenji.

"_Kisame!"_

At the mention of his name, Kisame turned, wide-eyed and on the immediate defensive, and was promptly tackled by a very flustered Sakura. She threw her arms around his waist and swore to herself she wouldn't let go again. His jumpsuit was wet and he was cold, and he smelled like fish and cheap sake, but she didn't care. It was Kisame—granted, wearing his hair down and a little shorter, reminding her an awful lot of what Naruto's hair had looked like instead of Kakashi's crazy updo—in all of his big, blue glory. Kisame with the rumbling voice and the empty threats and the joking demeanor that had faded to something a little more pleasingly tranquil.

Kisame, apparently, had no idea what to do. "S—uh." He patted her head. "Keiko. How—what? How did you get here? What are you _doing _here?"

She pulled away from him, and Deidara joined her side, smiling sort of lopsided-like and shooting Kisame a very casual, "Hey."

"Makoto?" Kisame blinked in disbelief, and then unzipped his jumpsuit, laughing. He shed the grey thing and laid it beside his fishing gear. "How did you two find me? And _why?"_

"You didn't exactly cover your tracks, yeah. You advertised this place from here to Sakanamura."

Sakura clicked her tongue disapprovingly and shoved Deidara, who glared at her. "Oh, he's exaggerating. It was sheer luck that we even found the fliers in the first place."

"So what ever happened with your 'let's just wait for a second' plan, eh?" Deidara said under his breath, glaring in a decidedly angry manner at Sakura.

Sakura looked sheepishly away, but Kisame chuckled.

"Hypocrite," Deidara scoffed, but he wasn't really mad. His demeanor changed around Kisame, she noticed, like he put up a tough front. And her demeanor changed around the man as well. He acted as a mediator that allowed Deidara to be brash and opinionated and Sakura to be calm and mildly collected.

"Wow," Kisame managed, smiling a bit and shaking his head. He smoothed back damp hair. "I guess we have a lot of catching up to do." He looked tired in that moment, and much older than he really was. He was wise beyond his years and he he was getting up there in regards to age, but only now—just _now—_did Sakura really see the jaded composure in his slouch and by the faint wrinkles around his mouth and eyes. He regained that youthful, largely jovial disposition and straightened, though, hands on his hips and chest puffed triumphantly outwards.

"Taro, you're in charge of keeping the customers in line."

The boy nodded, seemingly oblivious to Deidara and Sakura's presences.

"Mr. Fukui, can I ask you to watch the bar for me?"

An older gentlemen laughed a hoary old laugh and stepped deftly behind the bar, elbows on the counter.

"And Mr. Tottori—"

"Minoru, Kenji! Call me Minoru!"

"—Minoru," Kisame corrected, the corners of his lips edging into a brief smile. "Would you help Taro watch the bar?"

"Of course."

And then Kisame settled two large, heavy hands on Sakura and Deidara's sholders. "And you two can help me drag the goods into the backroom."

Deidara complained and groaned and whined, but he acquiesced, lifting—with effort—the twenty-gallon barrel of whiskey. Sakura was intimidated, understandably, especially when Kisame effortlessly hefted all but the barrel of beer toward the back door. She didn't want to use her chakra because she didn't want to risk being recognized, but…

Sighing, she took hold of the sides of the beer barrel and began to roll it in awkward, circular motions toward the door. She was halfway there and suitably pissed when Deidara came behind her and lifted it straight up.

"Having trouble?" he asked around a rather unwarrantedly cocky grin.

"No, I'm _enjoying _rolling the barrel."

"It's a scientific fact that men are stronger than women, yeah."

"You _know _I can lift that and _then _some if I could only—"

"Uh huh," Deidara drawled, teased, disappearing into the backroom, and Sakura decided that whenever he came back she was going to put one of those giant crabs in his hair. Unfortunately, Kisame came out next, and he gathered up all of those crabs and transported them into the back of the bar, as if he knew what Sakura was up to.

Goods cleared of the dining area wall, Deidara and Sakura dutifully followed Kisame to the upstairs portion of the bar. It looked shockingly like a standard-issue house, if not much more humble. The stairs led them through a heavy door—"Just in case," Kisame muttered—and into a white-tile kitchen. There was exactly one archaic-looking coffee pot and one worn teakettle sitting on the stove. The sink was empty, save for a sponge that had seen better days, and the kitchen table was overrun with envelopes and documents and all manner of paperwork.

The kitchen bled into the living room, with hard blue carpet and dingy tan walls. The only sofa was tattered, and the television set was dusty. There was a fireplace full of ashes and blackened bits of wood, as well as a fire-poker lying dejectedly beside it.

Sakura chanced a glance at Deidara, who was busily chewing his lip.

"Hopefully you two don't mind sharing a room," Kisame said, glancing at them over his shoulder. "I'd been using it for storage, but there are only a few empty boxes in there now. We can go out and buy you a futon today."

The hallway was short and crowded, with two doors on the left wall and one door on the other. The linen closet sat at the end of the hallway, marked by a sign that very clearly stated "LINEN." Kisame's bedroom door was wide open, and upon further inspection, Sakura could see an off-white futon, a dresser, a small television, and a myriad of boxes. The other door was cracked, and a small pair of pants snaked out into the hallway. What she could see of the rest of the room was a disaster. She assumed that the little boy, Taro, lived there.

Kisame opened the last door. The room was, like he said, empty except for some overturned boxes and a few rolled up posters. One such poster hung on the wall, declaring "Eye of the Shark: Kenji's Place" in bold, loud letters, with a rather striking design of a shark patrolling a fisherman's wharf. Sakura wondered whether or not Kisame had designed the poster himself.

"It's musty," Deidara complained, opening the window a crack. Cold air immediately swept through the room.

"Yeah," Kisame said, leaning against the door, "I didn't clean this room. The place was a mess when I bought it."

"I can imagine," Deidara said back. "Looks like you're doing okay, though."

"More than okay," Kisame admonished, shifting his weight slightly. "I'm surprised I'm even doing so well. We can catch up later tonight, though, when I close up. For now, I'll have Taro bring you some cleaning supplies."

Kisame made his exit, not quite as grand as his entrance had been, and Sakura collapsed into Deidara's arms. He caught her, grunted, and then demanded to know why she would do such a thing.

"Tired," she mumbled, lifting herself from him. "And I felt like touching you."

Deidara huffed and brushed some dust off of his sleeve. "You don't have to jump on me, yeah. You could just _ask." _

Sakura rolled her eyes. "Oh, Deidara, may I _pleeeease _touch you?" And it had barely left her mouth before he was closing the small gap between them—she'd never noticed before now how close they stood, even casually—and put his arms around her, encasing her in a veritable cocoon of warmth and Deidara. It was a very nice place to be indeed, she decided, and so she leaned into him.

"I'm not normally much of a romantic, yeah."

"Liar."

O O O

When Taro walked into the room carrying a bag of cleaning supplies and dragging a large roll-out futon, he became very surprised and dropped said bag right onto his foot. This made him yelp, which startled Deidara, which made Deidara bite Sakura's bottom lip hard, and Sakura quickly disengaged her mouth from her vampiric partner's.

"_Gross!" _he yelled, in all of his ten-year-old immaturity, and then ran out of the room with threats to tell Kisame that Deidara and Sakura were "practically just having _S-E-X _in that dirty room!"

Deidara moved to pick up the cleaning supplies, more than a little embarrassed about the incident, while Sakura rubbed her lip sorely.

They got to cleaning the room, though, as easily as one could clean a room while simultaneously trying very hard _not _to practically have S-E-X in a dirty room, because their kissing had reminded the both of them that it had been too long since their last round of copulation. Considering the last time Sakura had even _touched _Deidara like that had been in that wretched field of butterflies, Deidara was very anxious indeed, and he cleaned as fast as he could, clearing the boxes, washing down the windows, and dusting all the ledges in record time. When Sakura asked him to help her roll out the futon, he felt giddy with excitement. It was like a kid in a candy shop.

Sakura plopped down on it first, putting her arms behind her head and crossing her legs leisurely. Deidara followed suit, stretching.

"I didn't think it'd be this comfortable," she remarked, tugging his hair playfully. He frowned at her.

"We need to talk to Kisame, yeah."

"He said he'd talk when he closed up the shop."

Deidara snorted, rather unattractively, and then buried his face in Sakura's hair. "In, what, ten hours?" he mumbled.

Sakura stroked his head. "We can take a nap?"

He lifted that head of his, hair all askew, and pouted. "Or…"

"Or…?"

"Or we could finish what we started in the butterfly field?"

She laughed at him for a moment, kissed him on the lips, the cheek, and then the neck, and snuggled fixedly into him. "Not today. There are children around."

So Deidara grudgingly napped, with Sakura wrapped tightly around him. And really, he wouldn't have had it any other way.


	26. Z is for Zombie

**Found**

**Z is for Zombie**

O O O

Conversations with Kisame often had a very distinctive pattern: A trickle of information first, and then a flood, and then he'd shut himself up completely, and then the entire truth would come out. He kept true to this through and through.

The conversation that followed the next snowy morning between a dreary-eyed Deidara, a thoroughly excited Sakura, and a nonchalant Kisame went as smoothly as the fates would allow. How did you get here, Kisame? I walked, and sometimes caught a ride in a wagon, and at one point I pretended to be a monk because nobody would refuse service to a monk. How did you make your living here, Kisame? I worked in the docks for a while, and an old man asked me if I could help him do repairs on his country store. Is that where you got this bar, Kisame? Yes, he gave me this as payment. How did you get your business license, Kisame? I don't even know what that is.

But, maybe most importantly, what do we do now, Kisame?

Kisame took a polite drink of hot tea. "You can stay here for as long as you want. It's not hard to find work in this city. They don't usually ask for identification."

Deidara cast a sideways glance at Sakura, propping his feet up on the table. "You're stuck with me now, yeah. Here's where we start a life." Kisame promptly pushed Deidara's feet _off _his table, and Deidara nearly fell out of his chair.

"I know," Sakura said, running a hand through her hair. Dirty. She needed a shower. "I knew that when I came back. Remember?" She watched Deidara try his best to hide a smug smile.

"I'm glad you're back, Sakura," Kisame said around a grin. "I didn't think you and Deidara would last at all."

"Neither did I," she replied, to Deidara's dismay, and then laughed. "But stranger things have happened. Things are always changing, you know? It's not fair to limit yourself."

The congregation split shortly thereafter, with Kisame stamping through the snow to work on the fishing boat and Deidara and Sakura scouting for jobs. By some grace of the powers above, Sakura had been able to hold onto her medical certifications, and so she was very easily given a job at a local health clinic. Deidara, by comparison, didn't find a job at all, and he dragged his feet back to the bar, moody as all get out and demanding a pint of beer from Sakura, who threw a mug at him and told him to get his own damned beer. What did she look like, some kind of subservient housewife? Fat chance.

Eventually, though, as Sakura soothed his hurt feelings with gratuitous helpings of kisses and sex and occasionally some home-cooked meals (Kisame still cooked better, but Deidara was not about to say that out loud), he was able to bandage his wounded pride enough to try one more time. And weeks later, Deidara landed a job in carpentry, which he announced by standing on top of the bar, much to Kisame's chagrin, and telling everyone within earshot that _his _minimum wage job kicked the shit out of _their _minimum wage job, much to Sakura's.

So there they were left, two jobs and two people, and they found a little apartment in the "bad" side of town, but if they kept to themselves nobody would bother them, and they could take anybody on anyway. Things slowed, and it took some getting used to at first, this whole not-being-attacked-every-waking-second thing, but the consensus was that it was…_nice. _

"We should have a kid, yeah," Deidara said one night, five or so years into the relationship, and Sakura considered the wedding ring not on her hand and then she considered the earnest, high-pitched tone of Deidara's voice. She tapped a pen against her lip, looked up at the ceiling, and then shrugged.

"How much do you want one?"

Deidara squirmed. "A lot."

"Why?"

"Why not?"

"We're not too young?"

He gave her a very blank look. "I think we're old enough, Sakura. We're not getting any younger, as I'm sure you've noticed." With this said, he tugged at his cheek, simulating dropping skin. "Before long you won't even be _able _to have any!"

"That won't come for a while."

And then silence, for a time, and Deidara stood form their little table and disappeared down the hall, presumably toward the bedroom. Sakura was left alone to her crossword puzzle, and she figured the conversation was over for the night.

Deidara appeared again, standing behind her. "Please?"

"You don't have to beg me. I want to too."

"Then…why don't we?" He rubbed her shoulders mock-suggestively. "It's not like the baby-making process is _difficult, _yeah…"

She put down her pen and held his hand all the way to the bedroom.

O O O

Two years, one pretty little baby boy named Roka, with daddy's hair and mommy's eyes and the potential for great things in the form of teeth and tongues in his bare-palmed hands, not to mention _the_ world's smallest wedding ceremony later, Sakura was teaching a very flustered Deidara how to bake a proper cake. It was Kisame's birthday, and he was bringing his new girlfriend to celebrate. Taro was busily attempting to keep Roka from knocking over his city of blocks, and Roka was lying on his stomach, swatting at said blocks.

Deidara licked the spoon and stuck it back in the mixing bowl. Sakura made a face at him and told him not to mention this to any of their guests. "Now take Roka and give him a bath."

"I'm going to brush my teeth, too, yeah."

"Good."

"And I'm going to use your toothbrush."

"Have you ever _not _used my toothbrush?"

Kisame and his appropriately curvaceous girlfriend arrived, celebrated Kisame's birthday and the wrinkles forming near the corners of his eyes and the laugh lines around his face, and ate all of the cake. Deidara whispered to Kisame that he'd licked the spoon and put it back in the bowl, and Kisame whispered back that it tasted positively delicious.

So they all sat around on the couch, Deidara bouncing Roka on his knee, Sakura showing Kisame and his girlfriend baby pictures, and Taro eating everything in sight, and talked about the past. They talked about the day Deidara and Sakura had first met ("It was a lovely sunny day, when…"), the day Deidara proposed ("It was the most beautiful ring she'd ever seen, yeah…"), and the day they found Kisame again ("There were tears of joy in everyone's eyes…"). When Kisame's girlfriend bid them a polite adieu and Kisame a happy birthday, they talked about Konoha, the Akatsuki, Naruto, Yamato, Itachi, Sasuke, Kakuzu, Sasori, Hinata, and all of the zombies of their younger years that had been left behind.

When the night ended, somewhere around eleven o'clock, Kisame and Taro returned to their warm beds above their warm bar. Sakura put a long-asleep Roka in his crib and shut the door softly, and joined Deidara in the bed.

They ate eggs and bacon and miso soup together the next morning while Roka ate some cereal and spilled the rest onto his high chair.


End file.
